Dreaming of Death
by Shadowflame611
Summary: Dreams are one of the mind's mysterious ways of venting. Many agree that they can reflect someone's stress and desires. Some believe that they may also serve to warn us of tragedies to come ...But what good is a warning if it is not recognized?
1. Nightmare

_A/N: Wow… it's been a while._

_So yeah.. a few months ago I (temporarily) got my muse back, and before working further on any other projects that I have in mind I decided that this fic deserves some work. So, it has been __**completely redone**__ in the sense that I've added stuff to arguments, filled in a few plot holes, and made stuff less... corny? I donno. I'll wager it's still pretty darn corny. But its __**MY**__ corny fic, dammit!_

_I'll warn you all here: if by any chance you are bothered by [possible] character death, swearing, or violence, please discontinue now. I don't want to upset anyone- and I don't want to get flamed. Senseless flaming gets deleted. Criticism is welcome, though._

_So, what else do I need to tell you guys? This fic takes place in the lair that the guys first moved to during the first and second (third?) seasons. _

_Another important statement I feel I should make is to point out that I started posting this fic in 2005. I was around fifteen then. I wrote chapter 5+ in later years, 6+ most recently. The style changes. Maybe it was laziness on my part, but I didn't want to go back and change everything about the first few chapters… just to warn you all that the style/way that characters are written will change._

_Italics represent dreams and thoughts._

…_What else? I'm missing something. Oh, yes, of course:_

_**I do not own the Ninja Turtles (but it sure would be swell if I did). **_

…_Enjoy? :)_

**Dreaming of Death**

**Chapter 1:**

_He was a shadow, floating down the path to… well, he didn't know where the hell he was going. Something was dragging him deeper and deeper into the darkness, darkness so unfathomable that it overwhelmed the senses, suffocated, and threatened to seal its victims' sense of self. Accompanying the darkness was silence, silence so thick that he could barely hear his own thoughts. _

_But the beating of his heart… now that was something heard loud and clear._

_And that was the only thing that told him he was still alive. _

_Having been here before, he made no attempt to fight the force that inevitably would defeat him anyway, deprived of all but the fear of what was to come… and his heart beating. And an odd, metallic taste in his mouth. Blood._

_He was numbed to the very core of his soul, and yet the numbness there held the foreboding sense that something awful was taking place... Or about to. He wanted to leave, to be out of here, but there was no way to go but forward. The force that held him so tightly only tightened its cold fingers around him when he resisted. His path was set. __**Their**__ path was set._

_Set in what, exactly? Well, in inevitability. In blood. And fear._

_And suddenly, like a gift from the heavens there was light. Light that chased away the dark, opening up like a story book as he was granted the gift of sight. If he had eyes, he would have widened them in surprise at what he saw next- a present day image of himself running- no, sprinting down the alleyways._

_He was taking the familiar route to... If the direction in which he was moving was familiar, then why couldn't he remember where it led to? His mind's eye snapped back to the image of himself as, in his rush, he made an attempt to jump over an empty garbage can, but ended up tripping over it, knocking it down. He halfway expected the can to make a loud clanging __noise__- but it never did. Instead, the metal can hit the ground and bounced back up from the impact, reverberating with noise that didn't seem to exist. Apparently the image of himself couldn't hear it either; he fell, only to scramble up and continue at a rapid, frantic pace. _

_Then the figure slid to a stop and crouched low behind a dumpster, peeking at something across the street. He focused its vision on what the image was looking at, and suddenly he knew why the path that 'he' was taking was so familiar… it was the same route that he used to take to April's apartment._

_His image hesitated for a few more seconds, and then made his way across the temporarily calm street. As soon as he made it to the curb he started running again… This time to a shadowed figure lying crumpled on the pavement. The turtle kneeled and carefully lifted the person's head up and the shadow realized who it was- April._

_She was badly banged up and looked about to cry as she began to talk, her words bouncing over the shadow's deaf ears, and then she pointed to an open window on the second story. She must have fallen through and landed on the concrete sidewalk. However, there seemed to be more to the story, because she kept on talking, absolutely hysterical in all her pain and fear, pointing to the window and looking at the image of himself with a meaningful look in her eyes. The image's eyes widened, and when she finished he sat there, staring just past her face while his mind appeared to linger elsewhere. This seemed to anger April; she banged on his chest with a closed fist as she screamed three words that the shadow found he could read clearly off her lips:_

'_Raphael, do something!'_

_And then out of nowhere there was a sound that broke through the thick silence, a deafening noise that seemed to make the world shudder, and a shadowed figure dropped down from the window. The turtle named Raphael opened his mouth to scream…_

… _And the image began to fade away. Once again, the light was sucked out of existence as the darkness spread through it like a deadly plague. The shadow wanted desperately to call it back, but then the tugging started again and he was being pulled up…_

Raphael sat bolt upright, falling out of his hammock and landing with a muffled _thump_. The dark atmosphere of his room greeted his conscious mind as he lay there frozen on the cold floor, still wrapped in his sweaty blanket. It was quite a few minuets before he recovered from his discombobulated state, reaching up to wipe the remaining perspiration from his forehead as it dribbled uncomfortably close to his eyes.

_Dream. It was just another friggin' dream. Pull yourself together an' get yer ass up…_

Grunting, he pulled himself to his feet and began to blindly make his way to the doorway. His hand finally met the cold, rough surface of the door and he ran his fingers to the left until they came in contact with a small, round button. Pressing his thumb into it, he felt the device give way with a satisfying _click_ as his door slid open, revealing the dimly lit central area of the lair. Taking an immediate left, he made his way to the bathroom, passing by Donatello and Michelangelo's room in the process. Once inside, he slid the door behind him and switched on the light, blinking as the sudden rush of brightness created multicolored blotches in place of the bathroom sink.

Rolling barely intelligible curses over an uncomfortably dry tongue, he groped for the faucet, first turning on the hot water before realizing his mistake and switching to cold tap. Cupping his hands, he drank several mouthfuls of the liquid, then turned the faucet off and leaned with both palms against opposite sides of the white porcelain bowl, glaring at his reflection in the dirty mirror as he debated with himself.

"Ah, screw it." He would never get back to sleep without more of those pills. Not tonight, at least. Donnie had said that two was enough to get him through till morning, and since they hadn't worked to the desired effect, Raph decided that he was inclined to take more. Even if Don had told him not to.

That had been- and he checked the clock hanging above the doorway- seven hours ago, anyway. He was pretty sure that taking more wouldn't kill him (though what a relief _that_ would be). Raph always slept in on Saturdays, especially when sick or otherwise sleep deprived. The only indication that Donatello would get would be the fact that two more pills were missing from the bottle.

Don was anal, but he wasn't _Leo_ anal.

Decision made, the medicine cabinet squeaked open on its hinges. Antacid. Cough and cold. Tylenol. _No…Dammit._ He had just used them, so they should be right in the front... Unless Don thought to hide them. But no, the purple-masked turtle he had seemed so sure that they would work…

Upon his second search he found them, tucked all the way to the left with the label facing away from him. Popping the cap, he spilled a small pile of the medication on to his open palm, selecting two and growling as he fought with the others to stop sticking to his wet hand and return to the bottle.

A loud tap at the door startled him into flinching. Quickly tossing the pills into his open mouth, he took another drink to help them down as the person on the other side of the door called his name softly.

Don. _Crap. _With a backward glance, Raph shoved down all traces of guilt as he slid open the door. The two turtles stood looking at each other for a moment before Raph folded his arms across his chest, a visual indication of his irritation. "Well, _what_?"

Unlike his brother, Don didn't bother to partake in courteous early-morning greetings. He tilted his head slightly to the side, voice soft so as to not disturb the other two still sleeping. "What're you doing up?"

The response was immediate, and Don had predicted it almost to the word. "I'd like to ask _you_ the same thing."

Don's voice carried a hint of exasperation as he gestured largely to his lab. "What am I _ever_ doing at three o'clock on a Saturday morning?" When Raph didn't grace him with an answer, he continued, "Look, I heard a bang, came up to see what was it was and saw your door open and the bathroom closed up. I've been waiting for the past ten minutes, listening to the water run on and off. I was just wondering if you maybe hurt yourself."

Raph held tight to his brother's gaze with his own, habitually replacing any emotion he considered to be too revealing with an angry facade. "I'm fine. Juss fell outta bed, that's all." He reached back and turned the light in the bathroom off. "Was thirsty, so I got up and got a drink." He made as if to pass his brother and was halted as the smaller turtle stepped out in front of him.

The two glared at each other for a minute, Donatello unfazed by his brother's looming form. "You're still having those dreams."

Raph only blinked. "How yah figure, Don? I rolled over and fell offa the hammock. That's what woke me up."

"I don't ever recall you falling off of your hammock before."

"The pills had me in pretty deep."

"Then explain to me why you needed more." The purple-masked turtle's hazel eyes looked pointedly past Raph's head to a dark shape on the bathroom wall. "You left the cabinet open."

Raph shifted away from his brother, producing a low growling sound from deep within his throat. "I told you, Don: _I don't know_. I just wake up and can't go back to sleep, or I can't sleep at all, so I take more."

When Don's expression didn't change and he continued to look up at his brother, Raph averted his eyes slightly. He didn't like this type of conversation, and he hated being cornered into them. Especially when Don was the one doing the cornering- the brainy turtle knew exactly what buttons to press to get him to slip up.

"Raph… I just don't get it. This is _different_. It's not like all the other times. This isn't a personal matter; it's a family matter. I know you think I'm being overly corny of whatever, but in order for things to get better, we _do_ need to help each other out, here." He paused. "I know you've heard Mikey, and I know you've seen Leo." Seeing the expression on his brother's face, Don rushed on, "Who, by the way, doesn't really think you're selfish. He's just… stressed. And still hurting."

"He shouldn't say what he doesn't mean."

Something flashed across Don's features that contrasted far too greatly with his usually gentle demeanor. "_You_ aren't one to talk." He glanced back at Leo's closed door before continuing in a lower tone. "You know him, Raph. He thinks that he's responsible for everything and anything that goes on in this lair, and takes it all to heart. And that includes not only the way that Mike's been acting, but your behavior as well."

_God_, Raph wanted to leave. "Where the hell are you going with this again?"

"I _know_ what it is. We all do."

"Then I don't get why you keep shoving these stupid questions up my ass! If you know what's wrong, what do you want me to tell you for?"

Don hissed to remind his brother to keep quiet, but otherwise ignored him. "You've had these sleeping problems for a while, Raph... Things are only getting worse for you."

"And?"

His bitter tone seemed to have flicked a switch within his brother, because Don was getting fired up. Had he been in any other situation, Raph might have been entertained by the fact that he insisted with keeping up the Dr. Phil crap. "You need to _open up_. You think that not saying anything will help you forget? Or are you just afraid of us? One would think that by now you've lived with us long enough to figure out that we won't judge you based on any weakness you think you hav-"

Raph snapped. "Wrong!" The word rang throughout the lair. He continued, not realizing how loud he was being, and yet not caring. "Everything, _everything_ that I do is measured and compared. I can't do anything at all without being judged or criticized, whether we're talking about today or three years ago! It's all the same shit; no one gives a damn about how_ I_ want to handle-"

"-That's not true-"

"Ta hell it isn't! You all- _every single one of you_- expect me to sit around and deal with shit the same way you do. Want me to partake in some friggin' sob fest… expect me to act like life is all one big soap opera just because that's how _you_ do it-"

"No-"

"Well, what the hell do yah figure its gonna end up being? I go, I talk, everyone gets emotional, things get uncomfortable, and it all gets worse because you guys just don't like the way I view things. I tell you how I feel, and you guys shove it back at me- 'oh, that's not true, Raph, what the hell is wrong with you?' Or mebby it'll be onna these: 'Raph, how could you ever think like that?'"

"I told you, this is different! You're referring to issues of the past- all of what is going on now isn't about the TV, Casey or even thug-bashing…" He trailed off slightly, halfway expecting to be interrupted again. "It's not open for discussion as to whether your thoughts are right or wrong- it's just to help you cope. And- God, Raph… what happened during that fight? You haven't even told us that much!" Shifting from one foot to the other, he continued, "Say what you will, but Leo's right- you can't say that we pushed it from the beginning. We gave you time. You haven't gotten any better- we're not trying to shove you around, Raph, but as alien a concept as this may seem, we're _worried_."

Raph, not yet done with his own little tirade, glared at his brother for a minute before gesticulating wildly in the direction of Mike's room. It was almost as though he hadn't heard what Don had just said. "And if I don't do what you all want, I apparently don't care about my family?"

Don shook his head, distressed. "He didn't mean-" The purple-masked turtle broke off suddenly as the larger ninja shoved past him, heading for his room. "Raph, wait- would you _listen_?"

In response, Raph's door slammed.

Don stood in the hallway, alone, frozen in the silence that followed his brother's outburst as he listened for indications that the other two were awake. Leo was a light sleeper, and Raph had been loud enough to wake Mikey.

No one opened their door. Don had expected that from Mikey, but Leo was a different story… then again, Raph had been much more prone to outbursts within the past three months. Though the hothead had never been one to quietly announce his displeasure with _anything_, screaming at odd hours of the night seemed to become even more common as time went by and things became worse.

With a sigh, Don made his way to his own room, trusting the motion sensor in his lab to automatically turn off the lights after a certain amount of time. His computer would go into sleep mode.

He shut the door, not even bothering to turn on the light, stripping his gear off as he walked toward his bed. Climbing up to the top bunk to sit with his shell against the wall, he folded his knees inward, holding his head in both hands as he willed the dizzying jumble of family-oriented worries away.

God, he missed Master Splinter.


	2. Departure of the Eldest

**Chapter 2:**

[Four days later]

Mike yawned and stretched in his bed, shooting a glance at his alarm clock. It was eleven already… Leo and Don were probably wondering why breakfast wasn't on the table. _Damn_. He was supposed to have gotten up by six. _Must have hit the snooze button…_

Stretching luxuriously, the young turtle took a deep breath and let it out with a satisfied groan. _Eh_, _whatever_. For the first time in weeks, Mike found that he was actually feeling _good_. Nearly his old self, in fact.

Reluctant to emerge from underneath the warm covers, he reflected on how glad he was to have woken up to the annoying beeping of his clock rather than the shrieking of the fire alarm. That had happened once, when the youngest turtle had slept in and his brothers had taken the liberty of making their own breakfasts. Michelangelo had rushed into the kitchen to see the stove up in flames and his brothers in a state of panic: both Donatello and Leonardo were simultaneously trying to squeeze into the narrow kitchen closet to retrieve the fire extinguisher while Raphael used a wet dishtowel to snuff out the flames in his bowl of cold cereal.

Cereal. He had managed to burn _cereal_. It didn't have milk in it, but really that didn't make a difference… no where on the preparation instructions for _Fruity Pebbles_ did it call for any type of heat whatsoever.

Sometimes Mike wondered what they would do without him and his culinary skills. Yup, if it wasn't for Mikey, his family would probably be living in something that closely resembled a fire pit.

He finally rolled out of bed, leaning against the side table for balance as a head rush momentarily blinded him. Trying to shake the nauseating feeling, he stumbled out of his room and made his way out to the central area, heading for the kitchen when a news report on the TV caught his eye. As listened to the pretty brunette's words, he felt his previously good mood begin to plummet.

"Several gang shootings have been reported over the past couple of weeks. Residents of the city are advised to lock their windows, doors, and report any suspicious activity…"

_More gang wars. Great. Better not let Leo or Raph see this… _Looking around for the remote, he was annoyed to find that it wasn't in any of its usual spots. Reluctantly turning his attention to the sleeping form on the couch, he found to his dismay that the small device was clamped firmly in one of Raphael's large hands, held up against his armored chest.

_Wonderful_. It would be easier, Mike decided, to just go to the TVs and turn the damn things off manually. That way, unnecessary contact with his pigheaded older brother could be eliminated.

The TV would be off, the news would pass, and Raph wouldn't wake up with Mike trying to wiggle the clicker out of his clammy hands. All life would resume on Earth as it was meant to be.

The TVs went off with an immediate cease of light and sound and, satisfied, Mike made to pass by the couch again. Just as he was turning, however, the entertainment system came back to life.

Raph was watching him. His eyes were red-rimmed as he stared at his younger brother, creased eyebrows and tense posture betraying his foul mood.

For his part, Mike momentarily froze under his brother's glare before deciding it would be best if he just left. He took a sideway step around the coffee table, prepared to pass by the hothead without a second glance.

Raph, however, seemed to have other ideas. In one fluid motion he stood and placed his bulk in between Mike and the kitchen, the remote still clutched too tightly in his hand.

"I was watchin' that."

Mike moved his gaze to the floor and wouldn't look up. "My fault," he offered without sounding the least bit apologetic, "thought you weren't awake."

In response, Raph lifted his arm and pointed a huge finger inches from his temple. His entire arm quivered, blue-purple veins spider-webbing around his muscles. "Does it _look_ like I was sleepin'?"

Biting back any rude comebacks that threatened to surface, Mike shifted from one foot to the other, recognizing the situation he was in and thinking hard for a way out of it. "Look, Raph, I said I was sorry." He still didn't mean it, and he still made no effort to show it. Holding up his hands, Mike continued, "its alright… just go back to your show. I don't want trouble. I just wanna put some breakfast on the table."

With a growl that bordered on the edge of a roar, Raph took a step forward, flinging out his arm in the process. Propelled by the powerful thrust, the little remote flew through the air until it made contact with a far wall, splintering into several pieces which tingled and clattered to the floor.

Keeping the space between the two of them constant, Mike took a step back, his mind thinking about the entertainment system behind him and how much it would hurt to be thrown into it. Hands still up, he protested, "Raph, _stop_. It was just a mistake-" He dropped to the floor as a pillow went soaring by overhead, then jolted forward, fearful that one of the TVs would be knocked off balance and land on his shell. Thankfully, the system remained stationary.

Raphael, however, did not.

Rolling, Mike felt air rush by him as Raph sped by, shoulder angled to tackle him had he remained there. He barely had time to straighten himself before his brother was at him again, this time lunging and catching him around the waist.

Now on the ground and fully aware that he risked serious injury if he didn't move to defend himself, Mike brought down a padded elbow on his brother's skull. Lightening fast, Raph let go and responded with a downward shove to his brother's abdominal area, effectively knocking the air out of the smaller turtle and giving himself the chance to straddle his waist and aim a punch at the Mike's cheek.

He was rearing back for a second punch when he was grabbed from behind and forcefully pulled off his victim. Through the red haze of his anger, Raph could just feel the other person's hot breath against his cheek as they barked in his ear: "Enough!"

Struggling to overpower the person behind him, Raph lunged forward, then pulled back, slamming his shell into hard plasteron. However, the more he fought, the tighter the hold on him became, until Raphael found his arms fully locked and useless. He dropped to his knees, growling stubbornly.

"Enough," the voice said again, this time softly. "Stop it, Raph."

"Let go," Raph ordered, struggling to keep the tremble out of his voice, not understanding the full reason behind his constant mood swings. "Leo, let me go."

Leo did. Without a second glance, Raph stood and made a beeline for the second floor.

Choosing this time to emerge from his lab, Don watched Raph disappear into his room before turning to view the rest of the scene before him. With all the noise, the purple-masked turtle had actually expected the damage to be worse.

"What's going on?" The question was directed at Leo.

Having rolled onto all fours, it was Mike who answered, sourly, "Raph's friggin' insane, that's what." He spat blood onto the floor, muttering something about Raphael being a homicidal maniac who should be locked in a room until he could learn to control his "damn self."

Barely turning his head to glance over his shoulder, Leonardo let a string of Japanese syllables roll quietly off of his tongue. Nodding, Donatello obediently retreated back into his lab, closing the door with a muffled _click_.

With Don and Raph both out of the picture, Leo moved before Mikey, bending his knees slightly and holding out a hand of assistance. Mike reached up, but instead of taking the offered hand he grabbed Leo's wrist and pushed his arm away before bringing himself to his feet.

The two turtles stood silently for a moment, Leonardo watching Mike as he shifted uneasily on his feet. After his younger brother's refusal for help he fought the urge to place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," Mike answered. Wiping away the last of the blood on his cheek, he looked up at his brother, nodded, and spoke again, "yeah, I'm good."

Leo tilted his head to the slightly side, something he had a habit of doing before asking a question. "You know what happened?"

Mike took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. "Not really," he said, then, seeming to reconsider, said "well, sortof." When Leo only raised his eye ridges slightly, he continued, "I turned the TVs off, thinking Raph was asleep, and I guess he wasn't, because he flipped." He paused, then said, "Unless he really was out and I woke him up and he was just looking for some way to stir shit."

Leo straightened, crossed his arms. "Should have just left it."

"Gee, ya think?"

"Watch it," Leo reprimanded, then, "Since when did you become interested in energy saving? I don't ever recall you turning off the television without having to be asked to do so."

The orange-masked turtle blinked. "What?"

"Well, why did you even go for it? Turning them off, I mean."

"Didn't want the added noise," Mike tried. He knew it was a weak attempt and expected his brother's disbelieving tone in his answer.

"Uh huh." Leo was moving to the TVs even as he spoke. He stood lightly stepped over the pillow that had been thrown earlier and stopped, his hand hovering over the power button. "I'm not stupid, Mikey, and neither are you. Noise never bothered you before. And since you've lied to me, I have to admit that my curiosity has piqued…" He let the implied question hang.

Mike only shrugged. Leo pressed the power button and sat on the couch.

Knowing that the report would be done by now, Mike relaxed. He knew he was still in hot water from his not-so-subtle lie, but at least the most obvious evidence was covered.

Suffice to say he was confused when Leo turned to face him and said, calmly, "I already knew about that." Shifting slightly so that Leo was out of the way, Mike glanced at the screen. There was something about a new museum opening on, and nothing about the previous report.

Leo's voice brought his attention back to the situation at hand. "This is a repeat of the five o' clock news. I already saw the report this morning, well before any of you were up."

Wondering if he was screwed, the younger turtle tried to read his brother's expression. He couldn't see any anger there, but that meant nothing when dealing with Leo, Master of the Blank Visage.

Having been through this conversation multiple times with both of his more passive brothers, Leo skipped right to the point. Fixing his blue eyes on Michelangelo's hazel ones, spoke slowly, as though he wished to physically drill his words into his brother's head. "Master Splinter wouldn't have wanted us to live in fear."

Mike stared at him evenly, also very familiar with the song and dance. "He wouldn't have wanted us to constantly look for revenge, either."

"And what do figure all of our training up until his death was for?"

The younger of the two fought the urge to reach out and slap his brother. Instead, he turned and walked a few paces toward the kitchen before facing him again, wanting to keep the conversation short. It was incredibly uncharacteristic of Leo to make such leaps without first applying more thinking to it… especially when it came to Splinter. Then again, the events of the past few months had changed them all.

"Our training is for self defense, Leo." Mike wasn't hiding his frustration. If the argument kept going in this direction, Leo wouldn't be either. "Yes, Splinter wanted us to kill the Shredder. But this is different. The guys who shot him? They're _dead_. Remember?" He pointed a thick green finger in Leo's face. "_You_ -and Raph- you guys killed them." What more, the gunmen hadn't been a part of the clan which they had been trained to destroy- they were only a bunch of thugs looking to steal some cash.

Leo leapt over the back of the couch. Approaching his brother, he laid a hand on his own chest, adapting an empathetic air.

"Look, I know how you feel." He ignored Mike's growled 'bullshit,' continuing as though his brother hadn't spoken at all. "But that was several months ago, Mike. Its not like every time we go out there one of us is going to be killed."

"Yeah, so far you've proven that one, Leo." Mike paused, swallowed. "But its only a _matter_ of time! One of those punks is gonna get lucky again. And then what? You and Raph both go out alone- there's no one there to drag you back if you get hurt. There's no one around to pick up your body if you've been killed on contact, like Master Splinter was.

"You two go out there, and you run the risk of dying, all for nothing. And if something happens, and you're separated from your cell, then the rest of us won't know where you are, or what the hell happened to you. So we'll run around, hoping to _God_ that you're still alive- only to find you dead. Or maybe you'll just be lost forever. And then this whole damn process starts all over again, except its worse, because not only are we another family member down… Said family member didn't die so that the rest of the clan could escape, but went out and got bullets up his ass because of his own selfish need to take care of what the damn humans should have to deal with on their own."

Leo stared hard at the younger turtle. As it was, Mike had already bluntly accused Raphael of the same thing that he was implying here. Anger and hurt rose within him, and even though a voice in the back of his mind screamed for him to control himself, he was already speaking and couldn't stop.

"Are we talking about a possible family experience here, or is it just you?"

Mike didn't answer straightaway, only looked at his brother. "Last time, we almost lost Raph." He paused again to reassess words not yet spoken and shook his head, voice deepening slightly with the strain of emotion. "We _did_ lose Raph… and then some. And we're losing you."

"Innocent people are dying." Leo crossed his arms, and Mike sighed. He didn't usually argue with his older brother, and under normal circumstances he would have dropped the subject. But things has changed… paranoia had free reign over his mind.

"And one of those innocent people could be you. The cops will get to them."

"Eventually. But how many more people are going to die before the police finally put them all away? Something needs to be done."

"But why does it have to be _you_?"

"I repeat myself, Mikey… Innocent people are dying. I am honor bound to-" He stopped abruptly as Mike growled and punched the couch in a very uncharacteristic display of anger. The tattered sofa jolted, it's wooden legs making a grinding noise against the stone floor of the sewer. Leo raised an eyeridge. It wasn't like Michelangelo to get this angry so quickly.

Then again, maybe this had been long coming.

"Danmit, Leo, don't you get it? I don't _care_ how many 'innocent' people die, as long as it isn't one of my brothers!"

Leonardo stared hard at the youngest terrapin. All trace of control was rapidly dissolving from his features, and being replaced with anger. "How can you be so selfish? I'd expect a comment like that from Raph, but never from you. Don't you remember, after what we went through as a family after Splinter's death? Don't you think that the families of the victims that were already shot are grieving as well? Do you even care?"

Mike raised his head to meet Leo's gaze, putting all of his anger and desperation into his eyes. "Is this why you want to stop them so badly? Because you remember the grief that we went through, that we're _still_ dealing with? Leo, I doubt that they would have given three shits about us if they knew about Master's death. They all hate us to begin with. They don't even give us a chance, they just… we're too different. The humans would never have helped us… why should we help them?"

"Because they are defenseless. Because they don't deserve to go through the pain that we have. Because they just misunderstand us, as they have a tendency to misunderstand each other! What about Casey and April?" At the mention of the two humans, Mike broke eye contact once again. Leo continued, "_They_ befriended us! They became a part of this family, and helped us a much as they could through our toughest times." He paused. "Michelangelo, what ever happened to the times when you used to slip on a cape and run around as Turtle Titan, helping people for the 'greater good'?"

"Because there is no greater good. It took me a few hundred people screaming at the sight of me to realize that."

Leo was suddenly struck by a thought, and his anger seemed to move his mouth to form the words on its own. "Was it the people screaming, or the fact that a human took Splinter away from us?"

He regretted saying that almost as soon as it left his lips. Mike turned to him, anger making the orange flecks around his eyes glow like wildfire. When he spoke, his voice was unusually deep from barely kept back anger, "You know what? You want to go and get killed so badly, then go ahead. See if I care. But just remember in your dying thoughts that I tried to stop you."

With that, he turned his back and made his way up the fire escape, not stopping when Leo called his name. He turned in the direction of his room, his vision blurred and his eyes stinging as he fought a losing battle to maintain his composure. He only made it just past Raphael's room when a strangled sob escaped him, and he fell to his knees, slamming his fists down against the rough cement flooring.

He was suddenly jolted from his breakdown as a loud crash came from Raphael's room.


	3. Eavesdropping

**Chapter 3: **

Raphael climbed the fire escape, quickening his pace as the urgent rumbling in his stomach doubled. Sliding the bedroom door behind him, he promptly grabbed his pale blue waistbucket as he dropped to his knees, heaving violently as his body fought to be rid of whatever was in his stomach. After a few dry heaves, he finally chocked up some stomach acid, coughing at it's foul taste and the way that it mercilessly burned his throat.

Finally he was able to rock back onto the balls of his feet, taking several deep breaths to try to calm himself. He had had the same dream- the same nightmare- again. He leaned back until he sat down hard on his to lean his head into his arms, fighting another wave of nausea and trying to stop his body's insistent trembling.

He rubbed his eyes, trying to rid himself of the images that flashed so vividly across his mind. He was running, running… April, battered and bloody, sitting on the concrete sidewalk. Her insistent pounding on his chest, telling him to 'do something'. The overpowering feeling that something horribly wrong was about to happen as he looked briefly into her large, green eyes. And, finally, the sight of a creature just like him being blasted out of a window, ribbons of blood trailing from various wounds following the turtle's body as it sailed through the air…

He needed something to arch his mind away from the dreams for a little while. Maybe if he could forget about his sleeping troubles for a few minutes, he could approach his situation more calmly.

It didn't take long for Raphael to find something to distract him. In his haste, he hadn't gotten to shutting his door completely.

Voices, risen in anger, could be heard wafting up from in the central area and underneath the crack in the door. Interested, Raphael cocked his head to the side, listening to who was arguing. Leo… Leo and Mike. _Wait a sec… Leo and Mike? That can't be right…_Still trembling, Raph got up from his sitting position and made his way to the short hall that led to his room and, cloaked in the shadows, leaned against the wall as he listened.

"…But why does it have to be _you_?"

"I repeat myself for the third time, Mikey… Innocent people are dying. I am honor bound to-" Leonardo's voice stopped abruptly and there was a screeching noise.

"Dammit, Leo, don't you get it? I don't care how many 'innocent' people die, as long as it isn't one of my brothers!" _Damn,_ _Mike's pissed. What could __**Leo**__ do to set him off like that?_

"How can you be so selfish? I'd expect a comment like that from Raph, but never from you." _Yeah… he'd __**expect**__ that kind of comment from me… the asshole. _"Don't you remember, after what we went through as a family after Splinter's death? Don't you think that the families of the victims that were already shot are grieving as well? Do you even care?"

Mike said something about grief. Leo mentioned Casey and April. Something inside Raphael twanged horribly at the names, pulling his attention from the conversation as he caught his breath. _Cramps from puking…_ The shouting suddenly stopped, distracting from the pain and redirecting to the conversation below.

There were a few moments of silence, during which Raph imagined Mike standing there, simmering. However, when the youngest turtle spoke, the volume of his voice had surprisingly returned back to normal. "Because there is no greater good. It took me a few hundred people screaming at the sight of me to realize that."

Yet another pause. The argument was winding down, and Raph knew from experience that Leo was gathering words for his closing statement… That was, if Mike _allowed_ the discussion to close.

"Was it the people screaming, or the fact that a human took Splinter away from us?" Raph almost winced outwardly. Even he knew that with that comment, Leo had pushed the limits a little too far. _Nice move, Fearless._ When the reply came, the tone of Mike's voice fell even more, and Raph found that he was straining his ears to hear it.

He couldn't make out the words. But the emotion in Mike's voice was indication enough.

Suddenly, Leo's voice rose to a shout, calling to Mikey.

"Mike, come back here! Listen … Mike!"

Now Raph could hear someone rapidly making their way up the fire escape. He swore under his breath and pulled back in to his room, not closing the door in fear that whoever it was –probably Mike- would hear the hinges squeak and figure out that he had been eavesdropping.

Mike's ragged breath could be heard coming down the hallway, and then there was a muffled _thud_ just past his hall and the sounds of the breathing stayed in one place. Raph sighed inwardly. He recognized the noise, knew from their childhood years that Mike was fighting to keep his composure. Raph stood to make his way to the hall again, but it was at the last moment that he changed his mind.

_No… forget it._

The little scratch-up he'd had moments ago with the younger turtle had probably contributed to Mike's current state. And he wasn't in the mood for apologizing.

He backed back up into his room, hand out behind him, searching for his lamp. Suddenly, his foot caught on the blankets that he had left in the middle of the floor earlier and Raphael fell backwards, grabbing on to his bedside table for support but instead knocking it underneath him as he fell shell first. There was a crashing noise as the table cluttered to the cement flooring, followed by the sound of splintering wood as Raph fell hard on it. A few broken shards of wood stabbed into the palms of his hands and grazed his legs.

Before he had recovered from the first wave of pain and before he could stop himself, Raphael swore loudly out of impulse. "Shit!"

Outside of his bedroom door, a shadow flitted across the light. "Raph?"


	4. 83 in 9

**Chapter 4:**

Donatello grumbled bad-naturedly to himself, grabbing his tea mug and bringing it to his lips as though to take a sip. No tea came to meet his parched tongue, a reminder that had finished it off hours ago. With a sigh, he put the mug back on its coaster.

He then turned back to the computer monitor, eyes gleaming with blue artificial light. Stretching his hands over the keyboard, Don held them there for a few moments, thinking. Then he moved his hands again, passively watching the little cursor dance across the screen, leaving the codes he had typed in its wake.

After a few minutes he finished, reared back in his chair and, seemingly satisfied with his work, clicked the 'send' button on a popup window. A progress bar came up, filled to one hundred percent, and another popup window appeared with a message.

Don didn't bother reading the entire message. He had read the same damn thing enough times to know that the beginning phrase 'project 3101 failed to...' meant that he had messed something up.

In a sudden fit of silent frustration, he grabbed the nearest item at hand- his cordless computer mouse- and hurled it to his left, where it hit the right wall of his subcar-lab with a crack. Then, quietly, Don let out a pent-up breath that seemed to deflate him, body relaxing as he leaned an elbow on computer desk, clenching his hand into a fist and biting lightly on his thumb's knuckle. He held that position, staring at the computer screen and thinking deep thoughts until there was the sound of the doorknob jiggling, then a loud knock on the door.

Don sighed in annoyance, not really in any mood for interruptions at the moment. "Yes?"

The answer came muffled by the door. "Don? 'Lemme in."

"Why bother being polite? Just barge on in like you usually do." Don said, eyes not leaving the monitor. In response, he heard the door open.

"Don?" The voice, though strangely nasally, was definitely Michelangelo's.

"Mmm?"

"Could... could ya just spare me a second and turn around? You've probably been working on that for long enough, anyways."

Putting on a stern face as he prepared to lecture his brother about interrupting people when they were busy, Don once again turned around in his wheeled chair.

He was greeted by the sight of Michelangelo standing in the dim light, his hand cupped around his beak as he tried to suppress a dark liquid that dripped out slowly from between his fingers. Features softening, the purple-masked turtle made a move for the medical cabinet and pulled out one of the rags that he kept handy for times like this. Without having to be told, Mike sat down in one of the desk chairs, and Don handed him the cloth.

"Hold this to wherever's bleeding while I get some better light."

"Mmkay." Don flicked the light switch and went over to his brother, gently reliving his hand of the cloth as he carefully lifted it up off of his brother's face. He dabbed lightly at it, brows creased to a frown. For his part, Michelangelo sat still for his brother, neck craned to tilt his head upward, silent.

Had this event taken place more than three months ago, Don might have been a little more than uneasy at Mike's solemn disposition. However, with the way that things had become, he no longer expected the whining or annoying jokes that surely would have challenged his concentration.

"So," the purple-masked turtle ventured, "what happened? And tilt your head forward, not back. Unless you feel like puking blood." He had heard his two brothers yelling not too long ago. Having decided not to get into it, as it seemed to be between Leo and Mike, Don had remained in his lab and tuned out the noise, continuing with his work.

As he partially expected, Mike remained silent, the look in his eyes hardening as he stared at something over his brother's shoulder.

Don saw his brother's expression change. He assessed the situation for a moment before deciding that he could push without getting blown up at. "Did Leo do this to you?" It was a hard thought to comprehend, and while Don thought that his elder brother would never raise a hand to one of his he still had to admit that Leo was still capable of inflicting wounds- many of them far worse than what Mike had received.

Mikey's head moved slightly back and forth, and Don realized that he was shaking his head no. "Raph did," he said, sounding detached.

"Okay. No, wait... you got into a fight with both Leo _and _Raph?"

Mike sighed. "Seriously, Don, what kind of idiot do you take me for?"

"You aren't one. I was just trying to figure out-"

"Look, there was a crash from Raph's room and when I looked in to see if he was okay, he threw a hardcover book at me and screamed for me to get out."

"And I take it that because you interrupted me you don't want to tell me what you and Leo were arguing about." It wasn't a question, rather, worded as a statement.

"Not really. Not now." Don nodded and worked in silence for a moment before he spoke again.

"Well… Whatever it was, are you okay now?"

Mike closed his eyes. "My nose is bleeding."

"I know that. I meant-"

"Hey, Don? How about you go and check on Raph? I think I can deal with this while you're gone."

* * *

April slid the key into the lock of her apartment door and twisted it, booty-bumping the door to unstick it from it's frame as she slipped into her home with as much grace as the two brown paper bags brimming with groceries would allow. She placed them on the kitchen table, pulling out a plastic bag that held all of the items that she had purchased for the bathroom and going down her short hallway, stopping in the office to boot the computer up. Once the bathroom items were put away, April started the old coffee pot up and began to put the groceries in their rightful places.

It took almost an hour for April to make it to her computer with her steaming mug of coffee. She sat down in her chair with a sigh, automatically glancing at the black-and-white security monitors that were set up so that she could keep a closer eye on her downstairs antique shop.

April opened her email account, and her eyes widened in surprise as she saw that she had received one hundred and two emails since the last night. She checked them through, deleting the usual junk mail and reading through the few that she got from friends.

The remaining eighty three all had the same message: someone had been trying to hack her new system for the past nine hours. Realization donned on April, and she smiled, then laughed, shaking her head.

_Donnie, Donnie, Donnie..._

* * *

"Raph, let me in."

"No."

"I want to talk to you."

"No."

"What do you plan to do, then? Sit there and sulk?"

"No, dammit!"

Don sighed and leaned his forehead against his brother's door for a moment. When he relifted his head, he did so with new determination. He had only just switched on the light and seen his brother's predicament for a moment before he had to duck his head behind the safety of the door and close it by Raph's loud orders. He hadn't seen much, a glimpse of blood on the floor and the splinters of wood everywhere told Don that his brother probably needed to be checked... if not stitched up then cleaned in case of infection.

The situation was all about injured pride, Don guessed, but either way letting him in couldn't be any worse than looking like a big green chicken squatting in a nest of splintered wood.

"Look, I'm coming in, Raph. I'm going to take a look at your... whatever's hurt."

"No. Don, I said _no_."

Arm held protectively before his head, Don opened the door and slid though. No book came flying at him- or any other part of his body, for that matter.

Now being able to view his brother without the fear of having a concussion, Donnie assessed the situation from Raph's scowl to the ruined bedside table. There wasn't as much blood as Donnie had initially thought, but the undersides of Raph's legs were still lightly coated with the stuff. By the look on the red-banded turtle's face, not only was he in pain, but if he could get up his hands would probably be around Don's neck.

"Raph, calm down."

_"Get the fuck out!" _

"Just... take it easy."

"I can take care of it! Out!"

"I'm going to take a look at that. If it gets infected-"

"Then that's _my _problem."

"Oh, would you _stop_? What the heck is wrong with you? You gave me attitude last night when I came to check on you, and now-"

Raph breathed out through clenched teeth. "Donnie, I. Can take. Care. Of it."

But Donatello had had enough. He fought the urge to verbally compare his brother with a broken record and got down to business. "Alright, Raph. If you don't stop this right now, I'm going to have to resort to one of my _other_ measures."

This seemed to work a little. Raph clamped his mouth shut and glared at his brother as he approached. Don placed the med kit down a few inches away, then walked slowly around his brother in a circle, trying to get an idea as to how bad his injuries were. Unfortunately, with Raph sitting on them, it was hard to tell.

"I think I need you to get up. Lie on your plastron." At first, Don thought that he would have to repeat the command. Then, slowly, Raph leaned forward with a slight grimace on his face, then crawled out of the majority of the wood to lie on his stomach. Don looked at the damage-which there wasn't much of. He didn't doubt that it hurt, but it truthfully he knew that Raph had been through worse than a few giant splinters. There was no stitching needed- just a lot of shard-removing and a bit of disinfectant.

"This is probably going to sting, Raph..." He warned.

* * *

April could hardly believe it. Eighty three times her friend had tried to hack her program- over a period of nine hours. Did he really have all that time to waste on stuff like that? She knew that he took much pride in his ability to hack her programs... but that was just crazy.

April sighed and looked at her watch. Seeing that it was only eleven o' clock in the morning, she wondered if Don would still be awake. She could more than use the company and, now that she thought of it, there _were_ a few things around the apartment thatneeded a little tweaking...

* * *

Don had finally finished wrapping the bandages around his brother's legs. With a sigh he reached over and cut the bandage off, tapping Raph lightly on the head with the scissor handle to tell him that he was done. He then stood back and watched his brother heave himself up off the rug.

"It'll hurt for a while," Don said, noticing his facial expression, "But you'll heal fast. I cleaned the wounds well, so there shouldn't be much in the ways of infection." Raph grunted and glared at the purple banded-turtle in his usual charming way of giving thanks. Used to this type of response from his brother, Don gave a little half-smile as he cleaned the bloodied tweezers with an alcohol-soaked cotton ball. "And you are welcome."

Raph was quiet for a moment, then, "Where's Mikey?"

"I left him down stairs." Don said, giving Raph a peculiar look from the corner of his eye. "Why?"

Raph shrugged, his gaze focused anywhere other than Don's face. "Jus' wonderin."

"He had a bloody nose."

"Shouldn't have been snooping around in my business, then."

Don hesitated a moment before speaking. "I heard screaming before."

"Look. I really had nothing to do with that." Raph said, finally looking up at his brother. "Actually... maybe. The fight was between Mike an' Leo, but... Technically, I guess I started it."

"Technically..."

"Mike was jus' being himself, and I got… annoyed and Leo came to defend him. I left, and they started talking. About gang shootings and... uh, Master Splinter." Raph watched Don suddenly pause in the sterilizing as he placed pieces together.

"He still doesn't like the idea of anyone going topside? I thought he said he got over that."

"Yeah, well, you know Mike. Guess he got sick of us worrying about 'im for it."

Don just shook his head. "The gang shootings..."

"Yeah. I know. Obviously Mike's afraid for Leo." As he spoke, Raph unconsciously reached to his shoulder and rubbed a finger against the shiny round scar that was located there, a wound that had received as he was carrying the body of his father home. That and three others had almost caused him his life. "I mean, that sort of thing has always been a possibility."

"Well... he's traumatized. When I found him alone with you and Master Splinter, he was so panicked..." Don reached up to massage the memory from his temples, then paused again and looked to Raph. "Wait... Leo's up there now? He's aware that it's broad daylight, right?"

Raph shrugged, his anger at his wounds seemingly forgotten by the flow of the conversation between the two turtles. He was calmer now. "Who knows what the hell he plans to-" He was interrupted by Don's shell cell ringing. Don gave him an apologetic look, then pulled the cell from his belt and, checking the caller ID to see who it was, flipped the phone open.

"Hi, April, what's up?" Raph watched his brother from his seat on the chair, as Don's eyes shifted slightly from left to right as he listened. Suddenly, and much to his older brother's amusement, the purple banded turtle flushed, his olive skin turning from an olive green to reddish-brown. "You... you had an email alert on that? Oh... Uh huh... yeah, I'm not doing anything right now. Yeah, I got a new trench coat." He glanced at Raph. "I probably could... if I go through the sewers and come up through the manhole in the alley right by your apartment..."

Raph stiffened, his fists clenched so that the knuckles turned white.

"But I don't really need help, April... yeah, I know how long I was on. ...I know how late it was. No, I got enough sleep... April, I'm fine." There was another long pause, and Don sighed. "Alright... I'll be up in a while. Kay. Bye." As soon as Don hung up, Raph spoke.

"You aren't seriously thinking of going."

"Oh, I'm going. Haven't been out in a while, except to get supplies..." Don paused to give Raph a strange look. The red-masked turtle was suddenly uncomfortable under the gaze. "Plus, April wants me to check out the shop's security system."

"You can't go out _now_! It's light out!"

Don began to stack the medical equipment up. "I'll just go though the sewers and end up in the alley by her house. I won't be out in the open for long, just until I get to a window or something."

"Can't ya just... fine. Did she say anything about us going?"

Don turned away. "I don't want you going out, Raph... It'll probably end up being more pain for you than anything, anyways."

"But..."

"No buts." Raph growled and looked away, seeming to be thinking. Don turned to gave him another odd look. "Raph... why do you care all of a sudden if I decide to go out?"

Raph didn't answer, just kept looking past his brother. Don tried again.

"Is there something wrong?"

Raph said nothing. Don sighed, looking, Raph thought, more sad then the situation called for.

"Anyways... While I'm gone, check on Mike for me, will you? He should know what to do about his nose, but I still think that someone should just see if he needs anything else." When Raph still didn't answer, Don shook his head and left the room, going to fetch his trench coat and tools.

_In the dream, it was dark outside... it ain't dark out right now. _

"Don?" He called after his brother. "Be back before sun set, or I'll come out and kick yer ass."

The answer wasn't immediate, but when it came the red-banded turtle could tell that his brother was at the other side of the lair, by the door. "Yeah... okay, Raph."

Then the distinct sound of the door of the lair sliding shut reached Raph's ears.


	5. Temporary Lull

**Chapter 5:**

The place that he had chosen was quiet, warm, and so unlike the damp, tense atmosphere of the lair.

The apartment was also abandoned. _Always abandoned._ Whether Leo liked it or not, it had to be that way; he couldn't very well move around on the streets at this point. There weren't many shadows at one o'clock in the afternoon in which he could cloak himself.

It didn't matter, he decided. This would have to do. In a way, he was lucky; the neglected old place seemed to have been unoccupied for a number of years, judging by the layer of dust that coated everything. His [blank] for neatness made him want to touch the place up a bit, but he knew he could live with it- if this worked out, and if he decided to "keep" the space until it found other occupants, it would only serve him good for the times that he wanted to be alone.

In other words, it would never serve as a home. Only a place of temporary peace provided no one found him here. He could deal with the mess. After living with three younger brothers in a sewer for sixteen years, he had seen his fair share of mildew.

He sat down on the hard wooden floor in a spot that he had cleared using his tattered sweatshirt. Folding his legs underneath him in to a lotus position, he tilted his head back, breathing in the luxurious fresh air that wafted from the open window above him.

_Mikey_. Leo couldn't stay mad at him. As if being truly angry was possible from the beginning. His youngest brother had a right to be as pissed as he was, given the amount of crap he had been pulled through. However… his insistence that they discontinue what they have been trained for was becoming tiresome. They were ninja, trained so that they may survive no matter what obstacle came their way.

Their training had been Splinter's way of ensuring that they were able to fight back if the world decided to try to snuff them out. Leo had been protective of his brothers his entire life; it went without saying that he considered it his priority to ensure their survival. With Splinter gone- not to age, but to the bullet of a gun- the fragility of life had become all the more obvious to the eldest turtle. With one swipe of her hand, Failure had slapped Leonardo across the face, taking Splinter with her, leaving ugly claw marks across his cheek. They burned, a constant and foreboding reminder that he needed to improve. If he didn't, he would doom the rest of his family to death.

Pain twanged from some deep cavern in his chest, accompanied by the mental image of his father. He suppressed it. There was no time or energy for self-pity. Taking the reins of his thought process, he steered himself back on track.

They had to continue their training. They had to make their own strides toward survival- it was plain that no one else was going to do that for them. And in order to continue with the correct training, they needed to venture out from time to time to practice in the fresh air, without the dull sewer walls to enclose and suffocate them.

And besides… the dojo kept them together. If only for a few hours, it was time that could be spent separate, brooding.

In the deepest realms of his mind, Leonardo knew that Michelangelo was right- he was partially acting on terms of revenge. However, though the inward debate as to whether he should keep it up always twisted and squirmed within him, he simply couldn't bring himself to stop. Though Shredder was dead, the instinct to fight still burned within him; with Splinter gone, the need to satisfy that lust had increased tenfold.

He had constructed a name for that lust- "training." For the most part, it served to get his brothers (two of whom were not yet ready to fully resume their lives as ninja) off his back about thug-clubbing- especially the infuriatingly smug Raphael. Most importantly, however, it gave Leo a way to lie to himself- to say that he was doing something that was best for the family.

No, wait. It wasn't a lie. It was a decision based on hours of meditation, built on a foundation of practicality. Survival, survival, survival…

He had never experienced such denial before, and as a result his conscience would often scream for reprieve. During the darkest hours of the night, his confusion would often lead to him running from himself, sick of only partly facing his grief and yet too afraid to fully address the extent of his anguish.

He had never felt such pain before, and had never felt so devoid of resources. His brothers were there for him, that he knew. But he couldn't lean on them. It was his job to be the sturdy one, not the other way around. Sometimes, this self-assigned duty helped. With the three of his brothers proving to be a handful he found that, situation permitted, he could easily push aside his personal battles in order to help them with their own.

Sometimes it worried him, the irony that he seemed to be acting so selfish as to keep himself from his brothers while he worked on the goal of being selfless. Whenever Don or Mike talked about Splinter, Leo could _feel_ their disappointment as far as his refusal to completely open up was concerned. Don had mentioned time and time again the importance of honesty among the four of them, and Mike seemed to take his oldest brother's locked lips as a direct violation of the trust that he had always given.

_Raph…_ he didn't give a flying fuck about talking.

Not that Leo had expected him to, and it wasn't as though the blue-masked turtle doubted his hotheaded brother's love for a second. Difficult times were always intensified with Raphael's dangerously flammable disposition, and with the loss of someone who had acted as such a firm supporter in all of their lives, it wasn't unexpected to see Raphael pushing away.

However, what bothered Leo the most was the anger they saw, the _violence_, the late-night screaming and nightmares and the red-masked turtle's sudden reliance on medication.

Normally, Raph hated even Tylenol.

However, with the relationship that he had with this particular brother there was little he could do to offer comfort- not like he could Mike and Don. The fights that resulted from these attempted brother-to-brother talks were no help; Raphael was stubborn and, to his chagrin, the stress of it all seemed to leave Leo in a state where he was easily provoked.

"_You want to talk? Fine. You first."_

The red-masked turtle's short responses were so crude, so _Raph _in a state of un-Raph- and the stress of it all pushed Leo over the edge. As a result, he found that with Raphael he vented frustrations… but mostly created new ones. Leo _could_ hope that it helped his hot-tempered brother to argue it out, but he didn't need to lie to himself more than he already was.

If it truly helped, then it wouldn't leave Raph staring off into space; if it helped, the red-masked turtle wouldn't continue slaughtering punching bags. If it helped, the obvious truth about the gravity of the situation wouldn't have become apparent weeks ago, sending Leo and Don in to a nervous state where they jumped every time their hotheaded brother glared in their direction.

_The Godhonest truth? _Every time Mike yelled, Raph gave him a blank stare, or Don squeezed his shoulder in attempted reassurance, Leo wanted to break. He wanted to know what the hell it was that he was doing wrong so that he could fix it; there was absolutely nothing in this world that could bring him true solace like bringing his family back together again.

_Failure is a puppet player, and I am her marionette. _He was coming out of meditation now; his mental voice regained its familiar strength as he slowly brought himself back to the world. _Everything that I do just digs a deeper hole. At the rate that I'm going, we'll end up in China before I find a way to fix this…_

With a sigh, Leo opened his eyes to the semi-darkness of night, lit by the harsh electric lights of the city.

He could hear sirens in the distance.

_Spotlight on: Leonardo! :D_

_Hope that wasn't too dull. I wanted to give the leader some stage time; kindof feel as though I've neglected him a bit as far as giving an accurate portrayal as to how he's feeling._


	6. You Never Get Over It

_I have a few new chapters written. Hopefully I can come up with more before I run out and leave this fic for __**another**__ six years! X.x_

_Thank you to my reviewers! _

**Chapter 6**

Under normal circumstances, the feeling of several tiny cuts yawning with every movement of his legs would have pissed him off.

Now, however, it simply added to the feeling of the moment as he gave up the spinning, spiraling grace of Ninjitsu and settled for raining the bag with punches. Sweat gathered on his forehead, slid down and burned his eyes. His breathing at first matched the tempo of his fists, then dissolved to ragged gasps as he pushed the limit of his stamina.

He hadn't gotten any sleep the past few nights, which was different from the _little_ sleep he had been running on before. He couldn't get anything down to his stomach before he got these awful pains. Then he would vomit, and the lack of sugar in his blood would cause the tips of his fingers to tremble when he stretched them out.

With his hands balled to fists, he needn't worry about the annoying shakes. However, he couldn't ignore the jelly-like quality his body was taking on. Every once in a while a section of his vision would suddenly go missing, blur beyond recognition or just stand out like a black splotch.

Some radar in the back of his head told him he wasn't alone. The presence bothered him, and so he ignored the warnings of his body and picked up the pace in an attempt to block his brother out.

"You've been in here for hours." Mike's still-nasally voice rose above the beating tempo, but was barely audible over the swishing sound of blood in Raph's ears.

The hothead's only answer was to give a growl deep in his throat which cracked at the end. Baring his teeth and snarling at the display of weakness, he reared for a roundhouse kick- but instead slipped and fell to the floor.

His breath wheezed out on impact, heart beating against the inside of his plastron as he leaned forward to spit bile on the floor.

He didn't even realize he was still leaning, that the arm supporting him was going limp, until just before he blacked out and hit the floor.

Mike grumbled something unintelligible then slammed the wooden spoon back in the pot before saying, "I don't know why they leave me here with you." All but throwing the bowl of steaming pasta at his older brother, the orange-masked turtle sat heavily across the table from him.

That set the fire burning in Raph's chest again. With some effort, he managed to keep his gaze down, shoveling a mouthful in to his gob before replying: "I don' needa babysitter."

"Right. I can just go out to wherever I want, knowing you'll be square. You were only _pretending_ to pass out."

"As though _you _have anywhere to go if you even wanted to leave." He rolled his eyes up lazily. Mike was looking at him sharply.

"You know, you're way more of a dick than you used to be, which is saying something."

Raph shrugged, still finding a way to maintain indifference. He wanted to hit Mike, badly. But he had already done enough for today… the deep greenish-blue hue on his brother's face proved that one.

"You don't exactly smell like roses either." He stabbed the air with his fork, pointing across the table. "The stupid shit you spew now is way less funny than it used to be."

"Probably 'cause I'm not trying." He shifted in his seat, turning to that he was facing off to the side. "There's nothing funny in this place anymore."

Raph's only response was to grunt and return to his food. He chewed slowly, arm out around his bowl, leaning over it like a protective predator. So far, so good with the stomach pains. And he was finding he was actually hungry_._

"I messed your face up good, huh?"

Mikey sucked his teeth. "I didn't know you had books in your room."

Raph sighed. "You used to forgive me a lot faster."

"You used to make me bleed less."

Silence. Raph shoved the bowl to the center of the table, sending it skittering a couple of inches. Taking a deep breath, he looked at his hands. "You're still taking this Splinter stuff hard."

Mike chuckled, a bitter sound. "Loss isn't something you can just get over… you never get over it. You just get through it. And don't talk to me about who is taking what hard."

"What? At least I always react the same way to stress."

"Right. Get drunk, punch people. It's a package deal with you. Same old, no deviations at all."

"You're acting more different than me." Raph felt determined to make this argument. His fists clenched, and unclenched. "It only takes a little thing to set you off screamin', which is supposed to be my job. You never used to be like that."

"_Excuse me_ for acknowledging a traumatic experience."

"Teh. Just because you feel the need to fall down every five seconds and bawl like a baby in the middle of the damn hall doesn't mean I don't fail to acknowledge shit."

"Thanks for the comfort, _bro._"

"Thanks for the sore ass."

"What?"

"The only reason I fell was because I tripped."

Mike rolled his eyes. "Oh, _my fault,_ Raph."

They sat for a moment, feeling the heat of the childish argument.

"If my ass didn't hurt so bad, I'd probably go out tonight."

Mike snorted. "And what, get a few more caps popped in your butt instead? Or would you just faint again and make an easier target?"

"Nobody'd care."

Mike rubbed his face, voice muffled by his hand. "Raph… _fuck _you_._"

"Casey'd care. But the rest of you assholes…" Raph stopped suddenly. He grunted and reached up to massage his temples. "'Nother friggin' headache."

He didn't notice when something flitted across his brother's face. Mike was still angry, but something had changed, had entered his mind. "Yeah, Case would care."

"Whatever… maybe I'll hit him up tomorrow or something." He watched his brother get up and begin gathering the dishes. "I need to get out of this hellhole."

The water came on, turned hot. Mike sighed. "Raph, look. You're not getting enough sleep, so you're more apt to slip up. You really shouldn't go out."

"I can take care of myself, thanks."

"Right." Dishes clanked as they were thrown carelessly in the 'clean' side of the double-sink, sud bubbles clinging to the rims. "And even though you can take care of yourself, you worry like hell about everyone else, just like me."

"Whatever."

"I know you're just as worried about Leo and Don being out as I am."

"No, you're paranoid."

"If you weren't so worried, you'd be out, not home waiting."

"If I was out instead of being home making sure you didn't have a heart attack, you'd be going psychotic right now texting all of us just for a damn answer." The door alarm went off. "Look, there's one of them now."

Mike turned the water off and turned, scoffing. "Oh, so now you're trying to say that home because of _me_?" His eyes darted through the kitchen doorway, taking in the sight of Leonardo moving silently through the living area.

"Not just because, but I bet you're a little less of a crybaby now that I am here."

He held the orange masked turtle's gaze for a moment. Something internal seemed to click, and the remnants of anger melted from Mike's face.

"You know, Raph… I really wish you were a crybaby too. That way maybe at least you'd let us help you." Throwing the dishtowel across the back of the chair, he walked out. "And Casey would've cared if you get hurt, but there are, you know, _other _people around to care, too."


	7. Nothing I Could Say

**Chapter 7:**

With her hand on his arm and the computer monitor lighting both of their faces, Donatello was able to relax for a few hours. It felt good.

She had pointed to the screen, had talked him through her new program. He had grumbled to himself, and to her amusement, shook his head muttering words like "obviously" and "so simple." Of course, she also received a fair share of compliments from him, but with much of his pride lying in his mental capabilities, he inadvertently compensated for his previous inability to crack her code by belittling the structure of the program.

She knew he didn't mean it in an insulting way, and so she didn't allow herself to be offended. On the contrary, it was nice to see his face light up the way it used to.

With a high-pitched ringing her timer went off, and she went to retrieve the pizza from the oven. Slamming the metal pan down on the stove, she threw down her mitt and turned to him, leaning the kitchen doorway.

"Get whatever you want to drink. Sorry, I think I might have some soda left somewhere. Should've grabbed some earlier."

"You know I'm not picky." Comfortable with his surroundings, he moved to the fridge.

She laughed. "I also know you like your 'Dew." Glancing at the pie, she added, "You can take the leftovers back to the others. I'm not going to be able to finish it all by myself." Truth be told, she could probably do without pizza for a couple of months, but knew mentioning that would cause Don to bend over backwards insisting that they have something else to eat. Besides, frozen pizza was easy to make.

Chuckling dryly, he shook his head as he neared the still-steaming food. "Nmm. My _wonderful_ brothers."

Glancing at him, she took two slices for herself and moved to the table. "How are things?"

He waited until he was seated before he answered her. "Somewhat better, mostly worse."

"What's better?"

He laughed, the bitter ring tainting the sound with unfamiliarity. "Nothing, really."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "I dono. I guess that's why I came here, but…" Debating with himself for a moment, he finished, "It might be kind of difficult to talk about."

He regretted the words as he watched her reaction. Pulling her arms closer to herself, she leaned forward to the table, looking cold. Her eyes were distant, voice soft. "He's still doing it?"

"Moreso. He won't eat. His sleep is constantly interrupted, from what I've seen. For whatever reason, the past few nights have gotten progressively worse. Every time I think he's getting better, something happens, and-" He watched her pick up the pizza slice, only to stare at it distantly. "April, I'm sorry. We really don't have to."

She shook her head. "I just don't understand his fixation."

"Raph… he gets really close to people. Even though he likes to act otherwise. It's in his personality. You know that."

"But not Splinter…?"

He sighed. "I don't know why."

"Do you try to tell him?"

"He freaked out the one time we did. Leo and I don't think its… safe to try again."

"How's Leo coping?"

"He's all talk of training. We 'practice' in the morning. Definitely not how it used to be. Raph's exhausted, and Mike's not feeling it. Then we finish and Leo goes off for most of the day, in his room or topside." Don shrugged, "I can't tell if he's coping or not."

"He's still not willing to talk?"

"No. Maybe he never will."

"You need to give him time."

"Or maybe he's just not a talker."

"From what I saw, he mostly confided in Master Splinter."

"Right, I know. But what I mean is I can't tell if his distance is making things better or worse. That's why I don't want to push it. You've seen how he dwells, and how can twist things against himself." He took a bite of food and yanked to break the strings of cheese. "Every time you think you've beat him, that you've said something that even he can't flip around… he does."

She sighed in agreement. "Mikey?"

"He's still angry. At Raph, and at the fact that Leo wants to continue training." He bit his bottom lip, "I just don't know what to do."

"Oh, Don…"

They sat in awkward silence for a few moments, each staring in a different direction. Finally, Don spoke, his gaze directed at the miscellaneous uprooted tiles at the far side of the kitchen.

"Remodeling?"

She nodded her head. "Yeah. I need a change of scenery here. I'm putting in new cabinets, and I'm rearranging." She cleared her throat against the sudden frog there. "Casey and I talked about it, anyway…"

Watching her, he reached across the table and took her smaller hand in his. Her skin was warm and soft… with the exception of the wedding band there.

"I know."

With Leo back in the house, it seemed Michelangelo had nothing else to say. Head beginning to pound, feeling of nausea returning, the red masked turtle moved as though through molasses.

Raph took the ladder, slowly ascending, somehow registering through the fog that Leo was waiting above for him.

"Hey."

"What, Leo?"

"Just seeing how you're doing."

"Peachy, as usual." He straightened up and turned to face the blue-masked brother. "The hell were you all day?"

"Out."

"Descriptive."

Leo peered at his face. "You don't look so good."

Huffing a sigh, Raph shifted on his feet. "Thanks for the compliment."

Measuring the probability that he would raise his brother's hackles, Leo allowed some of his concern to seep in to his voice. "You should go rest."

The response he received was not normal. Instead of the usual heated response, Raphael eyeballed his bedroom door. "I'm probably gonna end up whether I want to or not."

Silence. Leo stared at his brother with his arms folded over his chest, still weighing his words. "Well if you're tired why wouldn't you want to?"

"Tsh." Grinning suddenly, the red-masked turtle shook his head, spreading the fingers of one hand from temple to temple.

Holding his stance, Leo continued to watch him. "What's keeping you from resting, Raph?"

Not only did that stop the laughter, but it dissolved Raphael's willingness to talk. He started moving toward his room. "Take a wild guess, Leo, and run with it."

"If you talk about it, maybe it'd help you."

"Nothing's gonna help it. Especially telling you."

"I just… We're getting worried, Raph. You're gonna crash if you keep it up!"

"Tsk. Bro, don't talk to me about crashin'. If you keep up the 'watching over my little bros' crap, you're gonna be right there in the grave with me."


	8. To Live, to Die for

_IT'S ALIIIIIVE! Haha._

* * *

**Chapter 8:**

A hot shower felt good, and it served its purpose of buying more time for Leo to think about his situation with the youngest.

Instead, he found his internal train of thought glued to the topic of Raph and Mike. Normally, feeling the tense atmosphere between the two would have Leo on the alert. Considering Raphael's wishy-washy affect, he might still have reason to worry, especially after the morning's scuffle. There was no denying the importance of a good conversation between the two, considering the relationship they had the past few weeks.

It was especially important for Mikey.

Now, the question up for internal debate was whether to approach the youngest today for a talk. Leo wanted to get the it off of his chest; it was beginning to nag him, for he could only recall heatedly arguing with Mike a few times. And really, he never had the ability to hold a grudge with anyone but Raph… the guilt always set in hours after a spat. But it was possible that depending on the course of Raph's talk the youngest was had that he would be unwilling to chat again. Especially so soon. They hadn't had a full twenty four hours to cool off, and he'd gotten Mike pretty riled up.

The water came off with a bang of pipes. Steam floated heavily in the air, rolling lazily around the ceiling vent. Emerging, it was apparent that Raph had fallen asleep. The door was cracked open to the hothead's room, and snores could be heard.

Deciding to take a chance, Leo headed to the kitchen to find his brother shifting through the pots and pans in the cupboard. Leisurely heading for a top cabinet, Leo removed a glass for water.

He drank and put the glass down with a dull clank. "Hey."

The greeting was rewarded with a backward glance. "You were out long."

"Was just clearing my head."

A snort.

"Listen, are you willing to talk?"

"About what?" Flatly, an obvious no. But not one that was explicitly stated, so Leo chose to keep going.

"I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry for the argument we had earlier."

Slightly slumping his shoulders, Mike heaved a sigh. "Yeah, sorry. I don't like getting like that."

Well, that was easy. "I know. It's hard. I shouldn't be trying to push this stuff on you like I have."

He didn't have to prompt further. Mike was heading right to the good stuff. "It's going to kill us, Leo. That lifestyle."

"Ninjitsu? It is what we live for."

He emerged from the cabinet, sitting on his haunches and looking up. "It already took our father. We've had enough close calls. It might not happen for years, but eventually, we're going to lose someone else."

"If we discontinue training, let ourselves go, then yes it will. Someday, somebody is going to find us."

"Not if we hide!"

"We've made enemies, Mike! Hiding can only work for so long! They've found us, they've found us before. They can do it again no matter where we go. That's why we need to keep training." Pause, and Leo couldn't help the desperation that slipped in to his voice, thoughts whirling around _defenseless_ and _danger_ and _what if I can't be there to protect them?_ "We need to be able to defend ourselves."

Silence stretched the slow seconds to follow. Mike glared, and a determined Leonardo refused to look away. The elder of the two wasn't stupid; that had been his best argument, his most reasonable, and yet he could see Mike attempting to brew another retort.

Mike clicked his tongue and stood up, knees popping. "You know... I really hope that I'm the next one to die. That way I don't have to live through any of this bullshit again."

Leo's breath came out in a huff. He hadn't expected _that _one. "Don't start with that."

"One of us is going to go. Eventually." They stared each other down across the kitchen, Leo's mouth open in half-formed rebuttal. "I'd rather be the one. That way, I won't have to look at the rest of you when it happens, and I won't have to deal with all this bull again."

"Mike, listen-"

"No. _You're_ gonna listen to _me_. Raph won't, so you…" He cut himself off with a slicing motion of his hand, "If I have to live through it... if I have to do it again, I don't know what I'll do. What's the next stage for me, Leo?" He jerked his head upward, toward the second floor. "Raph? Do I end up like him?"

Leo could only watch as Mike swallowed hard, clutching the old chair mismatched with other ones around the table, knuckles white as the wood groaned in protest. "And- what, that's not gonna help Raph at all either. I don't want to- I don't want to see him get worse." A short peal of laughter, a bit hysterical, "I-I can't even look at him _now_. I know he thinks I hate him or something, but… I just can't deal with it. With how he is."

He began to pace. "And Don, he's going to fall apart. The only thing that keeps him is taking care of us, but if he has to prepare another body, he'll split right down the middle."

Taking a step forward, the croaked beginning of a response just escaped Leo's lips before Mikey's palm slammed on the table, making the miscellaneous items scattered there jump with the force. Practiced calm kept Leo from flinching, even if he cringed inwardly at Mike's voice, raised for the umpteenth time in twenty-four hours. The wry, sarcastic little voice in his head, wryly named the Punisher for all the pain and suffering it caused him, compared the record to the weeks after Splinter's death.

"_I'm still talking! _ I know you 'know.' But in reality, you haven't seen Don. You go off on your own little excursions, and you leave us here, you and Raph, and you don't know how fucking depressing it gets in here with just us. So don't—don't _even_… Which brings me to _you_."

Finger jabbing the space between them, the orange masked one leveled his eyes over his hand, taking aim like he was holding a gun. "You won't let yourself go. You're too caught up in all this crap of trying to sustain us, but really, you're guilty as hell. And you won't let us help you, because for whatever reason, that'd make you more guilty." He scoffed at the look on his older brother's face. "What, you really think that you're the only one keeping track of how we're doing, and that we don't notice you? Do you think you're the only one who cares about other people's wellbeing, or do you just think you being the only one to care is how it _should_ be?"

"Mike-"

Again with the hand slicing the air, and suddenly Leo's little brother wouldn't look at him. " No, don't, I'm not finished. …What if another one of us has to die, because you insisted on keeping up with that lifestyle? I don't want to see that either, bro. I don't want to be here to see any of it, when it happens. So, I want to be the one to die."

Throat working, it was a full thirty seconds before the oldest could respond, quietly, but with utmost certainty, "I wouldn't let you die."

The laugh that escaped Mike's throat was bitter, raw, "I just told you, I _want_ to be the one to go. I don't want anybody else to fucking save me by taking a bullet." Angry disposition dissolving with Leo's flinch, Mike's look turned imploring, eyes glazed over but not overflowing. Yet. "I _can't_ be the only one left. I can't. I don't _care_ how selfish that makes me. I just, I-"

Leo took a step forward, which Mike mirrored in the opposite direction, shaking his head. Heart splintering, Leo let his hand flop like a dead weight against his side, watching his brother breathe deeply and tremble in an attempt to contain himself.

This conversation would give Leo a lot to reflect upon, that was for sure… but he'd be damned if he thought he could do it without providing some sort of closure on this distress. His first, almost maternal, reaction was to touch, and yet he understood Mike's refusal. So, he gave his brother a moment.

"Mike… I'm just trying to do what's best for this family. I'm lost. I'm not Splinter. I don't know what to _do_, other than to keep going. I-I can't… either way, Mike, we're gonna live in _fear._ And if you guys can't defend yourselves..."

He trailed off, and Mike sat abruptly in the chair, head in his hands, maintaining his silence. Leo reminded himself to stay put, even as his own need for physical comfort (something he often ignored, but it did add to the distress) began to itch.

He didn't think Mike would speak again. "What do you figure his last wishes were?"

A few moment's thought, and Leo shook his head as though trying to clear some physical substance. His eyes burned. "Master Splinter wanted us to train, to protect ourselves."

His brother looked up, looked him in the face, and something there… crumbled. Though not in a bad way. He looked relieved, but saddened. Leo couldn't put his finger on it, feeling strangely numb; whatever was there, it had Mike standing, hesitating, like he now wanted to close the distance between the two of them.

As though the entire world had flopped on it's back in that moment, Mike's voice had changed. He wasn't angry any more… more tired. The words were soft, almost soothing. "No, Leo. He wanted us to _live_. That's why he took the hit."

Cutting the conversation short was a shrill siren emitting from both of their shell cells. Leo watched Mike's face pale immediately, his well-trained mind reacting within seconds, knowing what the sound meant.

Punctuating the tail end of the noise was the sound of Raphael's door sliding open with a slam. Leaping from the balcony as though burned by hellfire, he was off down the sewer tunnels just as his feet hit the ground with a flash of bluish light, following his phone's GPS signal to their brother.

"Donnie!"


	9. You Only Bring Pain

_Here, have a nice, juicy chapter. Angst on the side and a glass of red wine. (WOW, I'm not funny at all…lol)._

_I have no idea why there are this many scene cuts. Sorry!_

_TMNT aren't mine, folks._

**Chapter 9**

He'd lived through twenty years of training, which meant that there was never, _ever _an excuse to let his guard down.

However, dwelling on the reasoning behind his current predicament would not change the fact that Donatello was surrounded. His mind had been so filled with the events of his night that he had neglected to notice the warning signs, to see the flicker of shadows or hear the whisper of feet against concrete.

_Oh, crap._ No sense in being even more foolish. Reaching behind him, he pressed the small, indented button on his phone twice in quick succession. His brothers would have heart attacks, but Don knew his limits, and wasn't willing to take chances.

The attack came swift to match their arrival, and Don had just enough time to pull his bo and ready himself for the impact. Swinging the weapon in a wide arc, he cleared himself enough space to step forward before they were at him again.

He had enough experience to know what he was hitting simply through _feeling_ the bo, treating it as an extension of himself. The meaty, squishy thuds were manflesh. The sticky hits were blades scarring his weapon, clinging to the wood and requiring more force to remove. Kicking out at the wielder of a blade, Donatello did just that.

Battles were either remarkably short or exhaustingly long. There was no happy medium… nobody got to come home and go 'oh, what a so-so battle we had today.' If they got to come home at all.

Raph kept his gaze ahead, attempting and failing to acknowledge the fact that the current scene gave faint flashes of déjà vu from his dreams. He raced down the sewer, breathing ragged and wheezy, throat and lungs emitting sharp pains as he took gulps of the frigid air. Fear yawned in his chest, threatening to consume. _He'd told him to be careful…_

Behind him he could hear his brothers. The fastest, Mike was naturally on his tail, breathing far more even, strides more fluid. The orange-masked matched Raph, glanced at his brother's face, and looked about to say something. Instead he turned his gaze down to his phone, reading the destination, and sped ahead like a rocket.

With dismay Raph found he couldn't bring himself to model the speed. Exhaustion was wielding her control over him; it felt like he was forgetting how to move his legs correctly. His spell from earlier was fast returning, and at a very inconvenient time.

He half expected Leo to pass him, but the leader seemed content to stray behind the hothead. Actually, Raph _fully _expected to be told to sit the battle out… Leo wasn't saying anything about that, either.

He was getting a strange feeling about the entire situation, something that reached beyond his dreams that told him he'd been here before with Fearless, acting so not-Leo. His brother was allowing him to put himself in danger… why?

He couldn't dwell on that now.

When they arrived, heart beating a tamponade in his chest, Raph immediately sought out Don. Mike had beat him to the punch; he stood at their brother's side, a vibrant blur of green and orange and falling bodies.

The two eldest brothers forced their gaze to the purple-banded turtle. Covered in a sheen of sweat, blood dripping in rivulets down his right arm, breathing heavy… all things considered, Don was in good shape. Raph didn't care to think about how he could have looked if Mike arrived a few minutes later.

Leo drew his katana, gesturing in their direction as he gave his first order of the battle.

"Move to them."

The quiet was unnerving.

She missed the days where they would all collect in her cramped apartment, filling the space with boyish shouts and assorted taunts and, more often that she would have liked, broken furniture. If she could go back in time and tell herself to stop complaining of a headache and just _savor it_ she would.

Donatello, though certainly not the loudest of the Hamatos, had given her the moment of familiarity she had craved. Now he was gone, and she began to wonder if the emptiness was even more painful then it had been before.

She didn't want to let him go. She could tell a part of him really didn't want to leave either, but knew he would refuse if she asked him to stay. He felt too responsible for the happenings "over there." Not responsible for the reasons behind the brokenness, but… he had this all-consuming need to keep things in order.

More than anything he worried about Raph.

Of course there was some anxiety reserved for the other two, but April could see that the state of the hothead had Donatello nearly off the wall. Especially given the gentle-natured turtle's compassion and his roll as the medic and caretaker of the family.

She had never been too sure about the relationship between the hothead and the pacifist. What she did notice was this: when Raph did something to Mike, such as dealing a black eye, he insisted his actions were justified. Whenever he got in to it with Leo, he rarely if ever apologized. But when Raph broke something around the lair and Don showed even the slightest hint of annoyance, the hothead always bit his tongue. Sometimes, Raph even seemed regretful. April had never witnessed to an all-out argument between the two.

Of course, she was sure they had their moments. All siblings did, it was just a part of the relationship. But there was something there, a type of respect that both separated the two and yet kept them closer.

One time she brought it up with Casey. He had theorized that Don simply gave Raph what he needed in the sense that he was willing to listen without judgment. After all, Casey had said, Leo always made Raph defensive and Mike just didn't take things seriously enough. Back then April had taken her husband's word for it. It was easy to see the similarities between the man and the young mutant, and so it was possible that Casey could sympathize with Raph on a level where others could not.

Now it was though those similarities never existed, were just a memory.

With a sigh April flipped open her phone and highlighted Casey's number. Thumb hovering momentarily over the green call button, she slammed the device closed with a snap. Feeling tears of self-pity rise, she then shoved it across the table, putting her face in her hands as it clattered to the floor.

The situation had gone from bad to worse. Initial rush of anxiety resolved with Don's relative safety, the feeling had returned tenfold when Raphael really began to reach his limit.

So, Leo ordered the other two to take stances as they formed a triangle around the hothead, who despite the incessant shaking in his limbs was still attempting to slash left and right at the enemy.

"Don, how are you holding up? Mike, cover Raph!"

"Kindof _hard_ when he keeps putting his- Raph, _quit it!_"

"I'm fine, Leo." Don's voice was lower, barely audible over the clamor of weapons as he swept his bo across the sea of black-masked faces. He glanced at Raph, face contorting in regret for a second before he regained control. "We need to get out of here."

"I know." Tilting his head to get a look at the rooftop around them, Leo groaned inwardly. "There's no way to get _out_-" he kicked a Foot Ninja backward in to two more. "Not while Raph can barely stand…"

Then, struck by an idea, he poked the sai-wielding turtle with his foot. "Work toward the edge of the building! Go! Raph, stay behind us!"

Backing up, Leo chanced a glance at his brother, who was glowering at the enemy from behind his three siblings. "Raph. Look behind you. Do you see any humans in the building next door?"

"What the hell would that have t'do with the price of tea in China?"

"We need an escape route." Ignoring the feral growl from Mike's direction, followed by the telltale _snap_ of a broken bone, Leo continued, "Look, just get their attention over here. Unless you can't spare the energy to throw a shuriken over there or something."

"Screw you, Leo."

"Um yeah Leo, not such a good idea to let them try to push us over the edge of a four-story building…" Mike piped from the left, voice rough from the adrenaline singing in his veins.

"Raph, _just do it_."

Groaning, Raph dropped to all fours, taking aim just before he lobbed a throwing star in to the living room window of a family of four.

"I did it."

"Good," Leo said, "let them see us so they call the cops."

The wave of ninjas hesitated slightly at the words. Some in the back began to melt away.

"_Call the cops?_ How are _we_ going to get away?" Mike glanced at Leo with something close to horror. Don kept his face pointed forward at the retreating backs of the enemy.

"Rrrgh," Raph grumbled as he watched the human father cautiously peering up at the commotion, hand holding a phone to his ear. "That was cheap. We shouldn't be runnin' like this. Should just fight these assholes."

"We just need to get away for now." More of the ninjas were disappearing, the few remaining casting surprised looks the sudden disappearance of their numbers as they too turned on their tails. The last few retreated, and Leo said, "Raph, try to stand up. Mike, grab him. Get him… go down to the ground and get as far as you can to April's. Hide if you need. Don and I will go by rooftop. We'll watch you and make sure you aren't followed by anyone."

Five buildings over, Don and Leo settled low behind an AC and surveyed their brothers as they hid in the alley near a convenience store.

Don shut his phone with a _snap_. "She said she'll be here in five. I hope the cops don't question her or anything. They're spreading all over…"He glanced pointedly at the stairwell. "Hopefully they don't come up here."

"If she makes like she is picking up something from the store then Raph can just slip in. Mike doesn't necessarily have to go. He can just run through with us."

"That's what she said she'd do. She's also bringing a trench for him."

Leo sighed. "What would we do without her?"

"Without a human who is willing to get up and run for us on demand? We might be dead by now."

Chuckling once humorlessly, Leo said, "We _would _be."

A few moments of quiet passed before Don spoke. "You aren't going to ask why I called you all over and nearly caused us to be overrun?"

Leo's response was ready. "If the lot of them could overrun the group of us, I can see why you would make the call."

An exasperated sigh, "I wasn't paying attention to begin with."

"But you knew enough to call before they overwhelmed you. It's fine, Don. Better you call before something happens." Before Splinter's death, Leo would not have been this forgiving. Back then, loss had only been a threat. Actually experiencing it had somehow made the leader more flexible when it came to his lectures.

"Yes, but something could have happened to Raph." _Or any one of us._

Leo blew a stream of air through pursed lips. "I thought of telling him to stay, but I knew he wouldn't listen. That part was my call, not yours."

"He lose it?"

"Close. He was out of the lair like a bat out of hell."

Another pause. "He needs rest, but it's sleep that makes him worse. When he wakes up… I'm afraid to enforce reality. Especially after what happened last time."

Leo nodded solemnly. "I've tried to ask him what his dreams are about before. He won't tell me."

"I keep trying to talk to him."

"Heh. Me too. I don't think that'll ever talk to me…"

Don turned his head to face his older brother. "Maybe what you need to do is give a little before you expect him to open back. You know how he is. It's something the two of you have in common… not like that's a good thing."

"Giving me a hint?" Leo's tone lightened somewhat, though his face remained set. "He said something earlier today actually. About me being just as apt to crash as he is."

"Maybe he has a point."

"You're not one to talk."

"I _have_ talked."

"I mean, you hold the weight of this just as much as I do, Don. Don't think we don't notice how closely you're watching the lot of us."

"… I know you think you hide it well, Leo, but we can all tell. I know you're worried about us. But if you're going to expect us to be a team and stick together, you need to insert yourself in there, too." Eyes following the path of April's car as she pulled up, Don said, "I'd never force you. I don't even care if it's me you talk to. Just as long as you take care of yourself, like you're trying to do with us. Do you see her?"

"Yes." They were quiet as she went in to the store, and Mike after a minute's hesitation helped Raph to the back seat. "Looks like Mike's coming back up with us. Call her and tell her to take a longer route. I don't want to chance her being followed by any leftover Foot."

"I'm not sure if it's a good idea to go back to the house after. Maybe we can go somewhere else?" Careful to keep her side of the conversation general, April kept her voice low.

"I think you're right. I didn't think of that one. Leo will still want you to loop around, but… you're sure you don't mind going back to the lair? We're closer to your place."

"It would be better for him."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. If you're sure-"

"I'm sure. Do you want anything while I'm out?"

"No, and don't stall. Get in the car and drive. We'll see you back home. I'll open the garage there should be room near the Battle Shell so you can just drive in. I have to go. Be safe."

Shaking her head at the sudden splurge of words from Don and the disconnected phone call, April carried the milk and frozen pizzas to the front counter. She wasn't sure if they were needed at the lair, but the items were in high demand there anyway.

The clerk grunted his thanks for her business as he all but shoved the plastic bags across the counter at her. Taking them up without a word, she carried them to her car and made sure to open the back seat and acknowledge the new figure there.

"Here, take these." If anyone had watched him climb in the back, she wanted to make sure she acknowledged him, as though she expected his presence. It probably seemed too fishy with the fight a block away, but from her understanding there wasn't much else that could be done.

Plopping in the driver's seat, she looked at him in the rear view mirror as she started the engine. "What's up, big guy?"

"Oh, I'm a fucking disgrace to all Ninja. How 'bout you?"

She couldn't help but smile, short-lived as the humor was. "I'm making a surprise visit to my favorite gang of mutant ninjas." He only grunted in response. "Are you okay? You're not hurt?"

"Yeah, I'm good I just... screwed myself over."

She shifted in her seat and said, "Sorry, but Leo wants me to drive around a bit before I go back."

"Whatever you want. Might not do any good if they have others driving too or whatever."

"Worth a shot."

"Guesso." He gazed out the window from beneath the brim of his hat. She drove in silence for a few minutes, watching him.

"What were you guys doing out anyway?"

Sighing, he said, "Don called. Guess they cornered him out there. The Ninjas were probably patrolling and saw 'im."

The guilt was instantaneous. "I should have driven him home instead."

"Ape, we _always_ go by foot. You wouldn'tve known."

"You're not mad? That he called?"

"Well, at least he ain't dead." There was a note in his voice which unbalanced his attempt at nonchalance. Pulling the coat tighter around himself, he slurred, "Leo shoulda listened. We could've just taken them. And not have to worry about driving around in circles n' shit."

"Well, maybe sometimes it's better to be safe than sorry."

Raph grunted. "If Case had come out, we would have been better off. The hell is he, anyway?"

The comment stopped April in her tracks. Thoughts slowed to murmurs, and the cars around them seemed insignificant for the moment as she tried to wrap her mind around the question.

Immediate anger surfaced from deep inside her, and she suppressed it. Pulling a blanket of bitter numbness over her heart, she glanced at the rearview mirror.

"Well?" Raphael's voice had gotten sharper, much more lively to contrast the lazy drawl he had been speaking with before. The tone snapped April to reality, caused her stomach to drop at the realization that she was close to shattering something vital.

"He's…out. He was out when Don called. He'll probably just go home and crash tonight." Voice cracking toward the end, she swallowed thickly. There was a brief pause, and April had another moment of sweltering anxiety as she replayed the sound of her voice in her head.

"Good fer nothin', never around when ya need 'em." The return of his drawl both had her exhaling in relief and blinking back her tears.

Donatello closed in on his brother as Raph slammed the door behind him. Hoisting the red-masked turtle to help support his weight, he helped him limp toward the elevator.

"I just need to check you to make sure you're okay."

"No you don't. I'm just friggin' beat. I trained too hard. You're not gona find anything other than what you saw earlier today."

"Those little cuts on your legs?"

"You need me to spell it out for you? Jesus, Don. Check your damn self! You're the one whose bleeding…"

"Funny, if you're just tired, seems to be having quite an effect on you." Don sighed as the door slid open. He looked to April and quickly averted his gaze at the look on her face. Raph didn't seem to notice.

"I'm going to my bedroom. Not your friggin' lab."

"Alright, alright." The door slid shut with the faint grinding of stone. Feeling his weight shift as they moved downward, Don kept his eyes ahead.

The door opened, and April made a beeline for the kitchen. Don started toward the couch, and Raph lurched toward the ladder.

"No, Brainiac. Room's this way."

_He knew something was wrong. What, exactly, he could not grasp; he knew that he knew why he was running so frantically toward April's, and yet at the same time could not bring the reasoning to light. It sat on the edge of his mind, just out of reach. Why the rush?_

_He watched the contraction and relaxation of his muscles with a type of fascination. There was something about the fluidity of his body which gave him pride; something about the lack of humanness in his form. He was a turtle, yes, but just as strong, fast, and intelligent as any human man. Perhaps moreso._

_That was where his selfishness began: in his need to match up to humans. He knew in the darkest regions of his soul that his existence was a mistake. A freak accident. It was a woe, an ironic twist, that he was able to feel and love, because a creature like him could only bring pain and misfortune._

"_I shouldn't exist."_

_The thought reverberated with a certainty which caused his running form to flicker as he sprinted. Suddenly removed from the alleyway, Raphael saw himself heading toward a battle in the junkyard. Donatello was on his knees next to a shrunken form, and Mike and Leo were defending him as he worked. As Raph arrived on the scene and rushed to help though the confusing mixture of Foot ninja and mobmen, a man reached in to his jacket. Pulling a pistol from within, he aimed at the turtle's retreating back-_

_The upcoming leader of their clan, his eldest brother, called his name. The syllables came out mangled, strange and alien-sounding. Horror laced the words, pain, disbelief, and there was a choking depth to the silence beyond the sounds of battle in the seconds before Leonardo called the retreat. _

_Distracted by the pain, Raph barely felt hands slipping beneath his arms. Colors liquefied and ran together, washing away, and he was running again._

"_An accident."_

_He watched himself flit through the memories, not entirely sure if they were candid or not. Five-year-old Michelangelo cried as Raph announced he was running away. Don massaged his temples in frustration at the totaled Battleshell he had worked so hard to create, and excused Raph from the lab. _

_Fuzzier, with an air of disbelief that Raph faintly recognized as his own, he watched as Leo dropped his katana in defeat slipping from his defensive position. To Raphael's horror, his older brother lifted his head, bearing his neck._

_Soft green flesh pulsed with lifeblood and worked around the air as the blue-masked turtle spoke:"If you're a murderer, then prove it."_

_Raphael stood at the edge of an abyss, frozen in to silence as Leo worked his throat and brought his face down to stare, saline pooling at the edges of his lids, breathing ragged._

"_**Prove it**__!"_

_Splinter's corpse looked up at him, glassy-eyed and frozen in death. His facial muscles twitched to a look of disappointment and anger. Suddenly one with the running figure, Raph ground to a halt. He stood paralyzed, locked in the gaze as his father spoke._

"_You only bring pain."_

He awoke with the sensation of pins and needles throughout his body, back arched uncomfortably in his hammock. Panting in the darkness, the vision of Splinter's face still fresh beneath his eyelids, he whimpered lowly in his throat and curled forward at the onslaught of memories. _No…_

_A heavy box made of thick cherry, smelling of fresh laquer and incense, not large enough for his body, but certainly…_

…_he could have done something. Should have done something. Stupid, foolish. A dumbass, not worth it, a fucking disgrace, no wonder…_

…_Donatello looked at him like that. Patience eroded by a sea of grief, his brother was no longer able to endure his fury. This only served to piss him off more. But who was he angry at, really? Who else could he…_

…_vent to? Casey was the only one with a temper which matched his own, was the only person in this world he felt he could relate to. He used to go to Splinter. Now, his father was dead…_

…_and Leo wanted him buried in Japan. Nobody really had the energy for that, and so Don was trying to reason with Leo. Raph was silent. Mikey wouldn't look up from his hands. Leo stood, angry, and that just set Raph off…_

…_seeing him sulk like that. Mike was always a cryer, and then he would get over it. But not now. This time, he settled in to a state of bitterness which proved unnerving. Who was he to talk? He was just a mindless fuck._

_Just a stupid, useless, good-for-nothing monster. Better off dead, if only it wouldn't kill the others. He had already killed enough people. Splinter, he hadn't saved. And then- and then Casey…_

_No…_


	10. Killer

**Chapter 10**

**A/n: Jumping through timelines and periods of dream/waking world here. Sorry for any confusion. The last two cutscenes are present. I'll label it so.**

**Guh. The next chapter will be less flashbacky. To say I've had issues with writers block with this story for years is an understatement. :p I have one of the last important scenes written out, but everything else in between is floating somewhere in my head.**

**Enjoy.**

Sleet pelted from above, relentlessly burning his skin with the cold. He could handle the pain for the numbness soon approaching. To be unable to feel the boundaries of his body and the real world was a treat, made him able to separate himself from reality.

He didn't enjoy it, though. He enjoyed nothing, nowadays. The disconnect from reality was simply a balm for the wounds he had; it took the edge off the pain, but never removed it. It allowed him to slip away for a few, but it was never long enough.

Leo was here. He could feel him pressing on the air around him, the familiar presence like an itch. Resentment licked a hot line up his neck to the base of his skull, causing him to shiver. Anger stirred all too familiar in his chest, lapping at the edges of his consciousness. It was a raw feeling, something he was tired of, and yet he could not bring himself to feel otherwise.

"You're going to make yourself sick."

The voice floated from darkness, seemingly all around him, but Raph knew his brother to be crouched down to his left. The words played a familiar melody as Leonardo chastised his brother, which was insulting in its own way. All the more infuriating was Leo's lack of sternness. The katana-wielder was genuinely concerned for his brother, and he was making no attempt to hide it.

"I'm already sick. Isn't that why you're here? To take care of the invalid?" Oh, he was so numb. He could hear himself from far away, the deep bass-tenor of his voice.

He hated that fucking voice.

Slipping in to view, Leonardo cautiously approached him. He was being so un-Leo, so _reasonable_**. **"I know you hate it when I follow you. But you left before I could even try to stop you. I just… I think we should talk, Raph. I know I'm not Splinter, but just talk to me. Tell me what you're thinking."

"Why, so you can judge what I'm saying and tell me how wrong I am?" The words whipped back effortlessly, as though rehearsed. Maybe they were. Maybe he'd had this conversation before. He didn't care to try to recall it.

"I don't have the slightest right to judge you." Well. What an interest-piquing statement to make. Leo, of all people… "I don't want to. I just want to understand you. You said I can't help you, but you didn't say why."

Those words burned, were acidic. They were insulting. Spoken as though to a two year old, as though Leonardo walked on eggshells. What was he so worried about?

Who the fuck did he think he was talking to?

"I'm a killer." Still rehearsed, but unbidden. A ready answer, a sentence he had repeated to himself over and over again. But he had never had an audience before, not for this line. He turned his eyes down so he didn't have to see his brother's face.

Why did he feel guilty?

"Who did you kill?"

"My family. Some of them. I'll kill them all, eventually. I'm pretty fucked up like that."

"Who?"

"Splinter," He said, "Casey."

"How did you kill them?"

He turned quickly, harsh winds whipping his bandana tails to the left. "I left them to die."

* * *

"I need to see Casey!"

"You can't see Casey!"

"Why?" The was a wild gleam in his eyes shining through a thin film of tears. "Why, because I killed him, too?"

Heart beating loud enough to be heard in his ears, Don moved closer his brother. Leaning slowly to eye level, he inhaled to speak, determined to keep his voice steady.

The thought of being this close to Raphael in this state caused worry to flutter in his chest. He was unarmed. He could get hurt, but Raph needed him. "No, Raph. You didn't kill him. You didn't kill anybody."

"You didn't see."

"Raph, Leo saw! Leo saw, and he knows. He wouldn't lie about something like that. He wouldn't make it up to make you feel better. He knows you wouldn't want that."

In a flash the window of opportunity was gone, and Raph tilted his head back to laugh. The maniacal sound had the pacifist turtle backing a pace, ready in case his brother lunged. "Leo _never_ cares about what we want. He only does what he thinks we want, because it's what _he_ wants."

Don swallowed thickly. "He's just frightened, but he won't admit it. Please, Raph… We all are."

"Fuck you. Fuck _all_ of you. Leave me alone."

"Come on Raph, don't!" Don reached out to touch his brother's shoulder, only to have his hand violently swatted away.

"Don't touch me!" Fully awake now, Raphael propped himself up in his hammock. "What the hell is _wrong_ with you? Get the _fuck_ out!"

Mike had counted the minutes of silence following Raphael's last howl of rage. Four minutes, he figured, would be just enough time to know that Don had gotten the needle in.

His door slid back easily on well-oiled hinges, and not wanting to be a complete jackass he turned sharply toward Raph's room. Leo was outside, leaning against the balcony with a bloodied rag to his face. He didn't take his eyes from the bedroom door as Don slid it open, holding a used needle in his hand.

He didn't look at Mike, either. "That should hold him over for a while. He's sleeping for now."

"We can't keep doing this. There's got to be something else we can do."

Shrugging helplessly, Don sighed. "I don't know what else we _could_ do, Leo. When he gets like that, he either hurts himself or someone else."

"You'd think he'd wisen up to the fact that every time he gets like that, he gets a shot," Mike finally spat. Both of his brothers turned to look at him, wearing expressions completely opposite of the emotional spectrum.

Leo, angry, started to speak when Don interrupted, "Mike, he's cracked. It's… I think it's sort of a defensive thing. There are different levels of panic-"

"Don, I didn't want a frig-"

"-No, look. All I'm saying is, there are different levels of panic, and the more anxiety that someone tends to feel, the less controllable they are."

"So maybe we need to put him on a pill or something," Leo said.

"If you think you could get him to take anything other than sleeping medicine, be my guest." Crossing his arms, Donnie looked thoughtful. "Not to mention just getting my hands on it is going to be a pain…"

Mikey chuckled to himself, turning his back on this brothers and walking away. Before he reached his room again, he shot over his shoulder, "Why don't you just put his medicine in a bottle and label it _as sleeping pills_?"

* * *

(_Present_)

With her head in her hands, April didn't even know somebody else was in the room with her until she heard the faucet go on. To her credit, she didn't jump completely out of her skin.

Mike tossed an apologetic glance over his shoulder. "Sorry," he murmured, setting the tea kettle down on the rusted coils of the old stove. Fumbling with the controls, he had to re-light it twice before the flame caught. April was starting to associate the faint smell of gas with this particular room in the lair.

"When I redo the kitchen, you can have mine," she said.

He looked at her questioningly, and she pointed one slender finger at the fossil of a kitchen appliance. Expression smoothing out with understanding, he said, "Don't rush it, Ape. Don won't let us go up in flames. I mean, we're lucky enough to have one."

Grabbing two mugs and tea bags, he places the two on the table before sliding in to the chair opposite her. "Don't you wana sell it, anyway? For a little extra cash? We could always go scope one out in the junkyard, if it really came to that."

"Mike, if I was that low on money, I wouldn't bother renovating."

"Well… true enough, I guess."

She took the chipped mug in her hands, pulling it toward her to examine the stains within. She almost smiled. Obviously Donnie had used this particular vessel on more than one occasion, judging by the stains. She idly wondered to herself just how strongly one had to brew their coffee in order to reach the darker hue ringing the very bottom of the cup.

"You want some medicine or something?"

Blinking, she brought her gaze back up to Michelangelo. "You looked like you might have a headache. When I first came in."

"No, I'm fine."

He got up to retrieve the kettle, approaching the table with steam piping from the spout. "Okay," He said as he poured her mug, "whatever you say."

"Thanks," She murmured, wrapping her fingers around her drink and enjoying the warmth. "Hey, Mike?"

"Mm?"

"You look kindof upset. Are you okay?"

He huffed out a short, humorless laugh. "Are any of us these days?" He lifted the mug to his lips, looking at her over the rim for her response. She stared back evenly.

He swallowed the scalding liquid uncomfortably and sighed. "I'm not. But I haven't been. You talk to Don. I'm sure you know all about it."

"Don doesn't come over to spill all your secrets, you know," she chastised, "I ask because I'm concerned. You don't think I should be?"

"I think you're right to stay topside away from all this crap."

His stomach dropped immediately as her eyebrows knitted together. "I'm not avoiding you guys. I just-"

"No, no. Sorry, I didn't mean that. I know you're working and stuff." At her expression, he lifted his hands in a placating gesture. "I'm not being sarcastic, Ape! You put like half the food on our table. That was shitty of me. I'm sorry."

She was wracking her brain for a response when a guttural roar interrupted any thoughts.

"Frig!" Mike was out of the room before she could fully react.

* * *

"They're dead!"

"Mike, Leo! Get me the Haldol!"

"Fuck, fuck, fuck _fuckfrrrr_!"

"Raph, stop. Just sit down. Just calm-" Don cut himself off as he dropped to the floor, an old lamp whistling ahead and announcing its connection to the wall with the sound of splintering porcelain.

Growling to himself, Don watched the rampage for a few seconds longer before hoisting himself to his feet, charging Raph's turned shell. They both fell to the ground, the considerably stronger sai-weilder wreathing beneath his brother.

"Mike!" Don roared in the seconds before Raph's elbow connected with his beak, "Leo!"

Seconds ticked by too slowly. Raph was screeching loud enough to shake the walls while his brother attempted to hold him still without spilling too much blood. He was on the edge of calling out to the other two turtles again when Leo swept in, shoving a hypodermic needle and small vial in his hand as he took Don's place.

Between the two of them, Don was able to inject the needle in to Raph's thigh, and together they held him until the red-banded turtle first ceased screaming, then fighting, and his breathing finally evened out.

Pulling back with a sigh, Don swiped a hand across his face, which only served to smear the blood more. With a growl, he reached behind him and took a towel from the back of his computer chair, tilting his head forward.

"Finally christened your room with this mess, huh," Leo said without a hint of humor.

"That's not funny."

"Sorry. Wasn't really trying to be." With a grunt, the eldest sat up and surveyed the scene. "Go get cleaned up. I'll get Mike to help with Raph."


	11. It's Not Fair

**Chapter 11**

**A/N: Oh, hey guys. This fic's still here? **

* * *

Leonardo sat alone in the Dojo. Truthfully, he was becoming used to the absence of his brothers. That wasn't to say that he liked that fact, but the emptiness didn't wear away at his insides as it used to.

Deep in meditation, he sat upon a plane surrounded by a multitude of colors, all of them beautiful in their own way, each representing a different element of thought. If he waited long enough, he felt he could eventually deduce the meaning behind each cirrus.

He didn't have time for that tonight. Raph's mind had gone AWOL on them, something that happened often these days. And yet, he thought he could sense something different in the air, and was currently investigating that. Or waiting to. Master Splinter had always said that answers were found rather than pursued in meditation, and Leo had found that to be true on more than one occasion.

Upstairs, a bedroom door slid back on its hinges. Feet padded to the edge of the balcony; the scrape of calloused heels across the hall betrayed reluctance to use the stairs, as April might jokingly say, "like normal people." Focusing lightly on the swirling hues of Donatello's aura, Leo felt him pause, spot him through the open doorway to the dojo, and continue on in to his lab.

Apparently, there was no news in the Raph department. Much less anything Don felt like mentioning.

April was still here. She'd come out of the kitchen shortly after Raph's rampage holding a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a kitchen towel. She hardly glanced up, stepping gingerly around the mess as she followed Don's trail to the bathroom. Soon after she'd gone back to the kitchen, and after some loud rummaging, Leo could smell something delicious cooking.

She'd been quiet for a good twenty minutes. Everyone in the lair had been, with the exception of Mike's music. But his door was shut tight; no matter how loud he cranked those speakers, the heavy stone and cement would hold most of the noise.

He meditated for a while longer. Nothing was becoming clear. If Leo wanted to be honest with himself, he'd admit that he was probably a little too worked up at the moment.

A short and rather unsatisfactory meditation session, he was just beginning to come out of it when he felt April approach. She hesitated in the doorway, then came to sit across from him.

He breathed in and out, long and steady, before opening his eyes. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

She was slouching, her eyes dull and off to the side, stray hairs sticking out of her pony tail. He throat worked, and she said, "I put supper in a big tupperware in case you weren't hungry right now. It just has to cool before you can put it in the fridge. I cleaned the pans I used."

"I appreciate it. Really."

Silence stretched a few moments. Finally, she shook her head. "I should be down here more."

"April, we don't expect-"

"No. I'm not the only one suffering. You guys are too. I mean, you were even before… I'm sorry. It's like I forgot about you."

"We'd never think that. We know you're busy."

"_Busy_, but there's always time for family. There's no excuse." Truthfully, he was a bit taken aback by the bitterness in her voice. "You've all been stewing here. And it's not like I didn't _know_. Shit, Don needed me, and I just… I waited for him to come to me. I waited until he would get so stressed that he had to leave, to come to my house just to get away, and I convinced myself my talks were _helping_ him."

She sighed heavily, finally looking at him. "But bitching about my wrongs still isn't helping you, now is it?"

"You've helped us plenty. April, the whole reason anything happened to Casey is because of _us_. And yet, you still bring us groceries, you still get Don the medicines he needs… we know you're there."

Her look sharpened. "Leo, I'm not one of your brothers. You don't have to protect me. I know you're angry."

"I'm not. I'm trying-"

"You're not acting the least bit upset. Don says you've been the calmest of the four of you… but you've distanced yourself."

"Is that what he says?"

"You're angry. Not at any one thing or person. And you know what? Your anger doesn't even have to make any sense. But that's what you're wrestling, isn't it? When you disappear during daylight?"

He was able to remain neutral for a solid ten seconds before his expression cracked incredulously. "Forgive me, but I really don't understand where this conversation is coming from. Two minutes ago you were talking about your lack of excuses for not being here, and now you're trying to _dissect_ me?"

She shook her head. "You have a right to be angry. It's not fair. Your family adheres to it's honor; it doesn't deserve the turmoil you've experienced." A tear slid down her cheek, but somehow, she kept her voice steady. "You've done so much good for those who wouldn't give you a second thought as anything but an animal. Your only reward is to lose one of the most important people in the world to you."

"April, that's enough."

"On top of it all, you feel the need to carry the weight of all of this. You're caught in the middle, because in doing to, you worry the others. And whenever Don tries to pick up slack, you feel guilty for that, too."

"Stop!"

She flinched. He sat back immediately, forcing himself to relax. He'd been unaware that he had shouted to begin with, let alone the fact that his muscles were wound so tightly his bones ached.

"You don't know what I'm thinking or how I've been."

She was considerably less confident now, meek. "Are you saying I'm wrong?"

He growled low in his throat. _Was she?_

"Leo," She sighed. "I just… you don't have to talk to me. I don't deserve it. But honestly, you need to talk to somebody. If not for yourself, then for your brothers. I don't think you realize how much anxiety Don has worrying that… you might crack, too."

He stared at a point in the wall beyond her, blank again, until she stood up. Approaching him, she crouched down to his level.

"I love you." Her voice finally cracked. A drop of wetness hit his hand as she leaned in to kiss his forehead. "And I'm sorry."

She left. The door to the lair closed firmly behind her, and even with her gone, he still couldn't breathe.


End file.
